Birth Of A Sith
by Quick Zero
Summary: Not every life in this galaxy follows the right path. This is the life of a young man who started down the wrong path at a young age, and has traveled the way of destruction ever since.
1. A Boy And His Sister

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, planets, concepts, or any other part of Star Wars. Only the fictional characters in this story can I claim as my own.

*------------------*

The first sun began to rise viciously on the desert planet of Tatooine, as it's brother prepared to join it, and resume their endless toasting of the sandy surface. All across the southern perimeter of town, moisture farms began to push back the cooling comfort sleep brought them, and join those fully conscious. One particular farm, however, holds a special interest to the intense adventure about to begin. Not only for the one inside, but the entire galaxy as well. In this afore mentioned moisture farm, live four tenants. The first one to awake, being the head of the household. He has a sturdily built body, not necessarily muscular, so much as it's just large. He has an odd balance of muscle and fat that results in a large upper and lower body, which has the appearance of being able to withstand a large amount of damage. The various minor scars, and lines of aging, seem to indicate that he has dealt with his share of pain already. He leans back, sticking his chest out, yawning widely in silence. This peaceful silence is broken by several cracking sounds, and he stands up, rubbing his back indicating the source of bone popping. This small disturbance seems to be enough to pull his weathered wife from the edge of sleep, and she too yawns and rolls over. Noticing her arm hits only the bed sheets, rather than her lifetime partner, she opens an eye, noticing him shuffling out of the room, getting stronger per step, towards the single bathroom in the house. The woman's loud, high-pitched, yawn seems to vibrate the air like a vocal alarm box. She swings her legs off of the bed energetically and walks, rather than shuffles, towards the bathroom. Her bright, brown eyes, write "morning person" all over her face, as she joins her husband in the morning rituals. At the glance of, even a rookie judge of beauty, anyone can tell that this woman was once stunningly gorgeous. Her full figured body, showing only a slight submission to gravity, is evenly tanned. She doesn't show the physical wear of time, as her husband does, but her eyes, even if bright and energetic, tell the story of tough times she's gone through. Across the hall from the master bedroom, is a slightly smaller, just as homely, room. Inside of which lies two beds, with about 3 feet between them. In the one on the left, a small girl is sitting completely upright. Her black hair falls around her eyes, which are wide open, as she's staring straight ahead at the wall in front of her. Her breath is sharp, and rapid, her body trembling in apparent fear. The young, light skinned, black haired, black eyed, boy next to her wakes up groggily, in response to his mother's yawn and his sister's nightmare. He rubs his eyes, ignoring her fear, and does an elementary school roll off of his bed, landing deftly on his feet and standing up. He looks at the young girl and leans up to her face, from the foot of the bed, head cocked to the side in interest. She continues looking straight ahead, as if she could see her dream still unfolding in front of her. The boy takes a breath, as if about to speak, then lets it out in a sigh of surrender.

"I had it again," the girl speaks, a high-pitched frightened voice that explains her shy, timid personality in simple octaves.

"I know Aya," her 9-year-old brother sighs, pulling on a shirt over his bare chest.

The newly christened Aya breathed out a heavy breath of tiredness, "I didn't get any sleep either."

"How can you have a nightmare if you're awake?" the boy questioned pulling on light tan shorts. He stops after struggling like a fat woman, then realizes he forgot to shed his pajama pants. "Turn around."

Aya turns away, "I don't know Tarahmes. I just don't feel rested, that's all."

"I'm done," he announces. "There's a difference between rest and sleep."

"Go outside," she instructs as her dressing process is a lot longer.

Tarahmes walks out of the room, and stands outside the door looking out at the hall. His parents emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed, his stepfather now appearing angered at having to rise before the second sun was up.

As the extra bright rays of the second, more powerful, and higher rising sun began to show signs on the top of Tatooine's horizon, the family sits down at the table to breakfast. There isn't much to talk about, as there are no events as yet to discuss. Taking the silence as an opportunity to plan the morning, the stepfather begins to speak.

"Tarahmes, before we can even start work today, take the speeder into town." his deep voice begins to ring out between bites.

"I know, get the droids from the rental shop," the young boy answers, in an attempt to salvage the silence he loves so much.

A heavy sigh from the large man indicated his annoyance at his son but he let it go silently. Then he turned to Aya, "I want you to help your mother in the kitchen today; you're becoming a young woman now."

Ignoring the snort of incredulism from Tarahmes, the mother speaks up, "you also have to help me clean the house while your step-father and brother work outside."

Tarahmes stands up, his empty plate showing his intention to leave the conversation, "I'm finished. I'll be back from the shop soon."

"Hurry up," the stepfather calls after Tarahmes.

*--------------------------*

The streets of Tatooine where already busy. Merchants mostly swarmed the roads, setting up, and calling out their, hopefully, unique and useful items. The main body of the shoppers was the children of merchant farmers, much like Tarahmes, on their way to gather needed items for their days of labor ahead. Among these working boys walked an anomaly, one that was a great source of amusement for the other boys. Tarahmes, being new to this routine, had no idea what the large group of laughing adolescents were in front of was about. When he reached them, the already loud jeers simply became clearer, and he got more clues to the poor soul being taunted so heavily.

"Haha, are you sure you're supposed to be in town?" one boy laughed.

"Yes, very sure," a feminin voice responded with dignity.

"Can you even carry the equipment back to your town," another one prodded.

It seemed even the merchants stopped calling out their amazing prices for rare eccentricities to listen to the bullying.

"Can you?" she asked him back.

Tarahmes, curious about what was so funny about a girl in town, pushed his way to the edge of the circle and was immediately stunned. The girl, who stood with her head held sternly upright, was a well-tanned, long red and black haired vision of beauty. She wore sandy brown colored vest without sleeves that was fastened by a zipper in the middle of her chest. The matching shorts were short, and also looked as if she ripped the legs off of them herself. Her hazel, almond-shaped eyes captivated his heart, and he immediately felt an urge to step in on her behalf. But what could he do against such a large group?

"They don't have any cleaning solutions here," the first boy taunted. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"You seem well versed in the location of cleaning solution," Tarahmes speaks up, taking a gingerly step into the circle, towards the girl. "Have you found much use for it in the past?"

A deep "ooohhh" rose from the crowd, silencing everything around him, and Tarahmes gulped fearful that he had provoked the wrath of the older boy too far. He stepped forward, and Tarahmes could finally see who the catalyst was. The boy was scruffy looking, to say the least. His disheveled hair, clothes wrinkled with missing patches of cloth in a few select places, only served to augment his bulky looking arms. In short the burn marks, and constant flexing and cracking of a knuckle or two served to instill a feeling of fear in the back of Tarahmes' mind. His thoughts began to question the wisdom of his move. The boy looked about 12 years old, at the least, and most of the onlookers backed up, while the merchants seem to inch steadily closer.

"What did you say?" the boy moved towards Tarahmes until he encroached on his personal space.

"I s-said, you knew a lot about cleaning solution, and probably got a lot of use out of it," Tarahmes' hesitation almost went unnoticeable. But the smirk of the bully showed it wasn't that quiet. Then Tarahmes took a cunning step backwards, "but from the way you smell, I have to take that back."

The laughs from the crowd now spilled unfiltered and unrestrained, as the boy looked at Tarahmes in disbelief. But taking the challenge in good fun, he smiled and began to get back on the roll he'd had before.

"You think you should be talking when you're that frail? You look like you've taken a couple heavy shots from a few Jawa's," He insulted the relatively small stature of his newfound opponent. The crowed roared with laughter; a few people even went as far to wrap two fingers around his forearm to prove his point.

"That's just cause you're **huge**," Tarahmes' arms tried to stretch beyond his wingspan. "You look like you've **eaten** a couple heavy Jawa's."

The resounding laughter showed just how much fun the boys were having; however, the girl sort of stared at Tarahmes in disbelief.

"I bet your old man sent you out here to get some droids to carry your equipment back didn't he?" he started, looking around with a sly smirk. "**Protocol** droids!"

Protocol droids known for their weak design only had a strong linguistic area. In fact, the average protocol droid couldn't handle much more than 50 pounds on it's back. Tarahmes' confident smile faded at the howls and jeers at his size.

"I heard protocol droids wouldn't even speak to you. Probably because you look like something even a Sarlacc would spit out," Tarahmes said, his weight shifting to his back foot slightly.

Knowing that this insult might have crossed the line, he was preparing for a physical confrontation. To his surprise, he joined the crowd in the loudest laughter that morning, and actually gave him a friendly hit in the shoulder. Tarahmes smiled in a friendly way, and returned fire, albeit, a lot weaker.

"And what's your name new kid?" the larger boy asked, extending a hand.

"Tarahmes," he answered. "Yours?"

"You don't know him?" some boy from the side asked incredulously.

"Not that I can remember," Tarahmes' voice sounded as if he was trying to recall the boy's face.

"Feliks," he told Tarahmes modestly.

"As in the only undefeated Podracer pilot on the planet?!" Tarahmes' eyes lit up in excitement at having exchanged words with someone of his stature.

"Yeah," he smiled.


	2. The Raid

*----------------*

The second sun of Tatooine finally reached it's full potential, for the day, fulling heating the sands. If one were to squat low enough, or unwisely lie on the ground, they would see ripples of warmth distorting the air ahead of them. In about one hour, the waves would reach the eye level of even a fully grown man. Tarahmes spotted, quite bitterly, his step-father working around the house. He expertly coasted the speeder next to the house, until a flip of a switch and a hiss later, it stopped. He hopped out, the rented droids following, and descended the steps silently; given away only by the loud beeping of the R2 unit. The step-father turned around and glared at him mildly.

"You're late," he grumbled, sweating over some circuitry.

"Sorry Berrin." Tarahmes apologized.

"Stop calling me that," he scolded.

"Well what should I call you?" the young boy questioned.

Despite his maturity, the concept of a step-father was new to the 9-year-old boy, and he wasn't sure exactly how to handle it. He ached to wrestle, play, and even work, with his late father Jomo Idrissa. Tarahmes received the grace of 2 weeks before his father was replaced by Berrin Kumi; a man who had comforted his mother, during the funeral no less. The way they had even met angered Tarahmes, the sheer disrespect it showed to his father's great name was astonishing. This didn't seem to matter a bit to Annakiya Idrissa, who cast of that last name upon their marriage, in favor of Annakiya Kumi.

"Don't even ask me to call you anything indicative of being my parent," Tarahmes warned.

"Where did you learn such big words?" Berrin asked, geniunely surprised at the sophisticated sentence the pre-pubescent boy had just put together.

"I..." he stopped. Where had such a vocabulary come from?

"Don't worry about it, let's just go check the generators, then I have to head into town to check on a few things. While I'm gone, I need you to check the tanks, and see how much we have." Berrin moved on smoothly.

They walked around the small, homely estate, and entered a large wooden door that led to the basement of the farm. In the dusty insides were two large pieces of machinery, along with a few consoles, some broken, some that weren't hooked to anything, but one in particular controlled the large machine that collected and processed as much of the pure liquid as it could. Another console commanded the adjacent generator that collected fragments of the H2O molecule to put together and transferred it to the tank supply.

"Okay, shut the Collector down." Berrin instructed.

Tarahmes walked over and pressed a combination of red button, entered a 3 digit access code, and pressed the largest red button. A few beeps, a mechanized humming died down, then a long beep indicated that the first machine was deactivated.

"You're clear on the collector." Tarahmes announced. "Want the second one down yet?"

"No, I don't need the run-off electricity hitting me while I check and calibrate the gauges," Berrin said approaching the first generator. He opened a panel, and began to play with some knobs and levers. I heard the squeaking of the aforementioned, and sat down out of boredom. The ground above rumbled slightly, and Tarahmes' attention turned upwards in mild interest.

"Another Tusken run?" he questioned his step-father.

"Probably," he surmised.

"Why do they keep coming so far in from the outlands?" came the answer.

"The Hutts are smart. They just got involved in weapon smuggling, along with spice." he explained.

"What does that have to do with the Raiders?"

"Well, the Hutts probably got them to do it," he purposely left the explanation unfinished, so as to let Tarahmes reason through it.

"Oh," realization hit him like a wad of paper from a juvenile Jawa. "More people will need to protect themselves."

"Exactly." he smiled proudly.

Tarahmes' face of self-accomplishment twisted into a sneer. _How dare he feel proud of himself!? He wasn't the one who raised me to be good at reasoning. My __**father**__ did. All before that fateful engine malfunction..._

"Okay," Berrin had turned, almost catching Tarahmes' angered look. But it quickly evaporated, "turn off the Compost Fragmenter."

Another combination was put into an adjacent console, and the similar sounds of the second machine shutting was interrupted by a loud crash; then a scream of fear.

"No," Berrin whispered in horror.

"There's at least three of them," Tarahmes informed him, counting the three different areas heavy footsteps could be heard.

"But, they never bother farmers," his disbelief continued.

The sound of a blow landing on a hard object generated another crash, and a scream followed. Then a heavy dragging, or scratching, noise indicated the sound of a desperate retreat.

"Go help them!" Tarahmes suddenly turned his eyes on Berrin.

"I can't take on three Tusken!" His eyes, wild with fear, looked at Tarahmes in fear.

A sick realization hit Tarahmes, "Aya's up there!"

"But what can I do?!" he yelled back.

The sounds of struggle stopped above them, and Berrin realized they'd been discovered.

"We have to run!" Berrin grabbed Tarahmes' hand and began to pull him towards the door, until he realized just how much resistance he was facing.

"AYA IS UP THERE!" his love for his younger sister was unparalled by any meager emotion, such as fear.

"Look, I love your mother just as much as I love your sister, but we can't save them. I'm trying to help you escape certain death. But I can't do it if you don't help me." Berrin explained in a measuredly shaking voice.

"Then run coward," came the cold reply.

Tarahmes turned around and began to blow the dust off of the rubble in the basement, until he came upon his goal. A long, thin metal pipe hiding amongst the metal crates that were strewn around. A single pair of footsteps was heard moving around the right side of the small building, towards the cellar door. Berrin looked at Tarahmes in astonishment at the new personality that emerged. It was pure, heartless, love; if there was such a thing. One look into his eyes showed that nothing would harm his little sister.

"I don't care what may become of my mother, whether bloody or in sections, but I'm not leaving Aya." his voice was filled with love, unlike his current mannerisms. "But where will you run to? You can't outrun a Bantha, and we know there's around 3 hanging outside the house."

The door was slammed open and a single Tusken stood in the doorway, his mask protecting him from any possible surprise sand storms. Berrin was suddenly scarce, so the Raider attacked it's only target. A simple side-step and duck made the Raider miss his nimble target, and Tarahmes swung the pipe upwards, catching the tall creature in the face. He roared in pain and anger, and another pair of footsteps began to come to his partner's aid. Realizing his impending doom, Tarahmes frantically beat the Tusken Raider in front of him, so as not to have to deal with two of them at once. But being 5 feet, and 95 pounds he couldn't cause enough damage to knock his opponent out. The truth of the matter was, another five minutes of the Tusken not fighting back wouldn't have been enough time for the boy to incapacitate him. The second raider entered the door swiftly, he took two steps towards Tarahmes before it's progress was halted. Berrin grabbed the raider around the throat and snapped it's neck with a whipping motion of his hands. The other Raider threw Tarahmes into a pile of crates, the pipe tightly clutched in his hands. Tarahmes knew that it was the only way he could fight against the Raider, so he held onto it valiantly. Despite the numerous bruises that were probably going to adorn his back after the impact. Berrin landed a heavy punch that didn't seem to phase the Raider very much. It slammed a forearm into the significantly smaller man that threw him into the wall next to the door. The Raider caught Berrin by the throat with two hands and held him pinned against the dirt wall, strangling him. A metal pipe slammed into the back of the Tusken, causing it to roar in pain as it dropped Berrin, and writhed in pain. It made a fatal mistake of turning around and the pipe slammed into it's throat. Another roar was caught in the crushed pipe of it's trachea, and it slowly suffocated. Tarahmes sprinted out of the room, with Berrin close to his heels. Immediately he noticed three banthas behind the house, and thought of the how unwise it was to have a house between the outlands and the town; especially one that faced away from the outlands. As they rounded the house, Tarahmes in a swirl of vengeful thoughts, they spotted another three banthas.

"Oh no," Tarahmes hesistated in fear.

"We can still get away," Berrin prodded.

Understanding fear traced onto Tarahmes' face, "you're right. There's no hope for them. Lead the way."

Berrin seized the opportunity and took off running towards town with an encouraging, "come on."

Berrin's feet carried him at top speed, it didn't matter if the boy couldn't keep up, it was open plains and he would be able to see him from a very long distance.

"I'm glad you came to your senses Tarahmes. This shows a-" Berrin stopped realizing that his fearful footsteps were the only ones he heard pounding the sands of Tatooine.

*--------------------------*

Back in the house, the door of the house seemed to hide the worse fear of Tarahmes behind it. He knew the nightmares his sister were having, involved this exact scenario, everytime it ended in his cowardly retreat. Much like the one he'd fooled his weak step-father into. _I can not protect Aya from a nightmare. But reality is something I can save her from._ Another scream and crash brought him to his senses, and Tarahmes recognized his mother's fear and instinctive fighting back. Then another voice, one that was several noticeable octaves lower, shouted in fear at the Tuskens. _AYA!_ Anger welled up in the youth and the door of the home seemed to explode. The sheer force of the solid form slammed into one of the three Tusken Raider's in the kitchen/living room. It instantly killed him, crushing his spine between the door and the counter; the other two Raider's turned from his shaking, defenseless mother and went after him. He ducked their coordinated initial swing, and scrambled past them. However, the end of one of the staffs caught him full in the leg. He yelled in pain, pushing up on his uninjured left leg, and hobbling to the bedroom area. The sound of a breaking bowl let him know his mother's new will to fight back. He ran to his shared room, and tested the door tenatively. He found it locked, and the shadow in the crack of the door indicated a bed, or two, pinned against it. A quiet, inconspicuous "knock-knockknock-knock-knock" knocking pattern let his sister know it was him at the door. After she slid the two beds out of the way, she unlocked the door and let Tarahmes in the room.

"Tarahmes!" Aya screamed in relief. "They're gonna kill us both!"

"Calm down Aya." he whispered to her. "You have to be quiet, we need to slip out of here if we can."

"But how? There's one way in and out." tears streamed from her eyes to her cheek.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." His words quieted her panic, and she looked up from her brother's chest.

"Okay," she took a deep calm breath.

Then a glance over he shoulder caused Aya to utter another fearful scream. Tarahmes turned around, re-arming himself with the pipe, to see an angry group of Tusken's blocking the narrow hallway out of the house.

"Stay close to me," Tarahmes spoke out of the corner of his mouth. "I'm gonna get you outta here."

A grunt came from the head Tusken as he shook his fists in the air triumphantly, confident this 9 year old boy and his 5 year old sister would be easily slaughtered.

"Oh yeah," the boy bounced the pipe in his hands threateningly. His rage bubbling up, and manifesting itself as the shaking of the smaller furniture and pebbles in and around the house. "Get over here and end this."


	3. Flashback

*-------------*

He looked down at his son and smiled as he expertly guided the sleek starship around the obstacles presented by the asteroid field without directly looking. Only a Jedi well versed in both piloting and sensing the future, as well as present danger, would dare pilot through such a dangerous environment. This man had the audacity to not only find such an environment a pleasure to pilot through, but he invited his son along for the "fun". The giant boulders **were** spaced relatively far apart, as far as asteroid field density recordings had gone, this was true enough, but the feat would have dropped the jaw of any onlooker; this type of area didn't seem to attract many spectators however. The Force suddenly resonated within the mans chest. His black eyes swiveled away from his only son back to the field of asteroids. He wasn't about to be hit by any, so why was the Force warning him of such an instense danger. It was practically screaming danger in his head, and his son could sense there was a problem.

"Father? Are we in danger?" the young boy asked, identically black pupils shining with worry.

"Yes. I think it's within the ship," he spoke calmly, although he was sure his death was imminent.

"Can we escape?" his voice vibrated with controlled fear.

This brought the father's mind from trying to decide exactly what was wrong, to finding protection for his son.

"You can," he explained quickly.

"Will you be okay?" tears traced their way down a once exhilirated face.

"Do not question me or we both shall die," came the honest answer. "Come quickly."

The man grabbed his son by the arm and half dragged, half ushered, his offspring into a storage compartment. It was the safest escape, short of an escape pod, that he could find, since he lacked the latter. He pushed the mechanism beyond it's normal strength capabilities through heavy Force-bound suggestions. The door sealed tightly, holding in the anguished cries of his son. He didn't need to hear it, the waves of pain rolled off of his son like hair from a Wookie. The ship chose that moment, as if through the will of the Force, after the assurance of his sons survival to show the object of danger. Readouts scrolled across the screen and he quickly deduced the engine had a serious problem. His hands flew, the Force guiding his decisions now, as he tried to remedy the situation. But try as he might the situation grew worse. All he managed to do was contain the situation, while simultaneously avoiding the asteroids, until he realized with wide eyes that the engine was about to explode. He turned to face the rear, at the last second, to face the engine. The blast of heat and waves of destructive force pushed the container of the engine out towards the powerful Jedi. Barely having time to even blink, a shard of steel pushed easily through the soft exterior of his left pupil before he mangaged to throw up a Force shield. Every other piece of shrapnel and debris was crushed upon impact with the shield. Blood trickled gruesomely down his cheek, like bloody tears, as he called on every bit of Force manipulation to supress his pain and hold his defense up.

*---------------------------*

From inside the storage compartment, the explosion had much more dire consequences. The explosion blew the room completely away off of the ship, and it crash-landed into a particularly monstrous crater on an even more imposing piece of space debris. The power of his Father's seal remained intact as long as he was concious, which wore off very shortly after the makeshift escape pod had rolled to a very rough stop. The outside looked almost as bad as the 6-year-old inside. The dented casing told a very horrifying story of jagged rocks; unyielding and unforgiving to anything foolish enough to have any kind of impact with it. The small, light-skinned, black hair and eyed boy inside was bleeding profusely. Due to a lack of restraints, his light body was nothing but another piece of equipment inside, and neither were showed luxury during the vicious flight. He was tossed back and forth brutally inside the room, being battered by the walls and containers inside of the room. Finally the very chaotic commotion inside stopped, and the door slid open, as if nothing significant happened. His body rolled out, limp. Head leaked from a gash in his head, right shoulder, back, and hand. Bruises very nearly completely coated his body, and he was in unspeakable agony. The Force seemed to be the only, even if relatively conceptual, one that had an iota of kindness…to both injured parties. The boy, and his father, passed out very shortly, and their pains were dulled to almost nothing very quickly.

*---------------------------*

Inside the ship, what hadn't had to be sealed off by the emergency ray shields, the man laid on the ground unconcious also. He was, very literally, less than a fraction of a millimeter from death. The metal that had punctured his eye seemed to lose momentum, as close to his brain as possible without damaging it. His eyelid was split vertically, as he'd reflexively lowered it for vain protection, and the blood seemed to be backtracking so it could come back out in progressively more constant groups. Luckily, depending on what your tolerance to intense discomfort was, a blood clot was formed. The bad part was that this now held the piece of metal into his eye, much like an inflamed infection would a splinter in your finger. The man came to slowly, and realized the multiple agony his body was now experiencing. It was enough to make him beg for the luxury of a sith-imposed lightsaber. He took the unselfish option of survival, at least until he could find his son. His first movement, even if mentally, was to feel around for his sons familiar presence. But he could find none. His son wasn't a particularly powerful vessel of the Force, so his unconciousness or death would render him indetectable. Next his right eye quickly scanned the wreckage, no, the devastation. He saw, with a heavy heart that his son's compartment had been blown off into space. An unbidden image of the door being ripped off by the force of the explosion led him to the conclusion of his son's apparent death. Desperately he doubled his search back for his son again, and failed once more to find his beloved heir to the name Idrissa. He struggled to his feet shakily, and realized that only one eye was responding to his signals for movement. He brought a tentative hand to his left eye, and screamed in horror and pain. The blade of metal had punched all the way through the lens, retina, and connecting nerve endings. This meant that the slightest brush brought "sparks" of life to the aforementioned nerves. The pain of which penetrated his mind and echoed through his very skull. He turned to the mostly salvaged console behind him, and sent out distress signals. He didn't turn to the ship back towards home yet. Something made him want to linger, to try and search for his dead son's Force signature. Instead, he devoted his energy towards trying to heal himself as much as possible. He wasn't much of a healer, being more inclined towards warrior tendencies, but he managed to lightly dull the several contusions in his back from being thrown backwards with such heavy force. Then he snapped a hand to his left eye and whipped the metal out of his eye with another scream of agony. Whether or not this was a wise move remains to be seen, because the flow of blood was renewed by the removal of the plug. Blood dripped out of his blind eye onto his hands, and it was then that he realized the pain had brought him to his hands and knees. The Force took over his agonizingly blinded actions, and searched for his son again. After a third and final failure, he physically reached up to the ships controls, and turned back towards Tatooine.


	4. Enter: Darth Sidriss

He sat up in bed suddenly as he scanned his dark meditation chamber. Sweat poured off of his body, and a throbbing in his left eye was suddenly flaring to life. He grunted and stood up weary from the gruesome and painful memory. _Why has that memory decided to come back? Is it because we've returned to Tatooine? _He folded his hands behind his back and re-centered his mind on the Force. He felt the power flow through him, exhilarating and freeing his body from the shackles of physicality. The anger filled him, and he opened his eyes, satisfied with his meditation. The Sith Lord moved to the only table in the room, and bent over it momentarily. As the Sith Lord walked out of the room, his power seemed to rattle the bones of even those not attuned to the Force. Maybe it was the way the broad-shouldered, light-skinned, black hair and eyed, man carried himself. He was a large 6' 5"; if he hadn't shrouded himself almost completely in the black tunic outfit, covered in a identically colored robe, you would have seen the rippling muscles his lifestyle had blessed him with. An eye patch, multiple-use photoreceptor, covered his left eye. Meaning that he was able to perceive his environment through the eye patch, as it plugged into his artificial nerve-endings; there were many rumors that said it had several other modes of vision, such as binocular and even x-ray or microscope.

"Sir!" a man in an Imperial uniform saluted the Sith Lord. "We've arrived at Tatooine."

"Good," his voice was deep, and resonated like the last note of a song. "Prepare my shuttle."

"Shall I send a squadron of troops with you, sir?" He asked in an eager tone. The private probably thought his initiative was appreciated.

"Did I…" he paused dangerously. "ask for a squadron?"

"N-no sir," he began to realize why everyone had elected him to deliver the message. The dangerous tone was enough to instill fear in a smuggler who escaped the Maw for fun.

"Then what reason could you fathom for me needing one?" his annoyance showing through louder than his own voice. "Do I appear that weak?"

"N-not at all s-sir," the young man's voice was beginning to vibrate with stuttering.

"Good, prepare my fighter." He said. Then glanced back at the rookie, "for **me **only."

"Yes s-sir, r-right away." The boy scrambled in the opposite direction almost gratefully to escape his suffocating presence.

*---------------------------*

As the TIE Fighter soared it's way towards the surface, the Sith spent the time to think about his mission ahead. His Master had crushed the rebels, before he'd even been chosen as an apprentice. So there was relatively little work for him to do, which was conducive to his master's lazy tendencies; why else would his Sidious always choose an apprentice already trained in the Force, rather than teach one himself? But he wouldn't make that mistake when he chose his apprentice: a young apprentice means an impressionably loyal apprentice. Wasn't that lack of loyalty the downfall of his last apprentice, Darth Vader? At the thought of downfalls, his mind went back to his own downfall, before Darth Sidious had saved him, and shown him the **true** ways of the Force. _All before that fateful engine malfunction..._ The Sith Lord shook his head, and refocused his mind, recalling the briefing information. There was a small faction on Tatooine, with the underground financial backing of the Hutts, gathering their strength to challenge the Empire. The leader of which was a direct descendent of an avid rebel. Rather than wait for them to spread their seeds of rebellion all over again, he would crush them now at the source. First, he would have to find that slime Jabba…

*---------------------------*

"My Lord," the gargantuan gastropod thundered in fear. His head tilted down in his best imitation of a bow. "What do you want?"

The Sith's fist clenched silently, shaking in anger. He hated the Hutt before he even knew him personally; and the Hutt's mask of submission over his apparent lack of respect infuriated the Sith Lord to the point the ground trembled when he was merely in his presence. "Tell me what you know of a Annakiya Kumi." His voice thundered in the epitome of bass.

"Believe me when I say nothing." The deceit rolled off of the Force-ignorant in sickening waves. "I myself have been investigating these rumors so I could report to you. But I haven't been very successful."

His waved his hand blindly behind himself, the room shook violently and the wave of power swept his entire security force into the wall, immediately knocking them unconcious. About eleven guards in front of him leapt into defensive actions and a red light saber immediately poked through the first Rodian guard. He spun, the glowing blade ripping out the side of the bleeding alien, and deflected two bolts. He carefully redirected the bolts away from his body, back at the hands of the attackers. Defending against blasters was an especially adept skill of the Sith's, and he had honed his ability to the point he could aim where the bullets returned. Within the next few blasts, every blaster had hit the ground, sizzling, and now useless. He leapt into the air, over the heads of a guard. He swept the blade behind himself cutting his second victim on an horizontal axis. He blocked the next guards desperate punch with his bright crimson blade. The resulting yell of agony provoked, even the most dormant, imagination to think of the pain the unfortunate Zabrak suffered as he split his fist open to the wrist. The Sith finished the job by leaping forward and completely opening another victim. The gasps of horror succeeded the shudders of disgust at the blood the Sith had spilled so quickly. He paused and turned back to face Jabba the Hutt. His guards lined up in front of the Hutt faithfully, but none of them seemed very willing to initiate combat, instead choosing to wait passively. The Sith didn't stop however, his lust for the destruction of the Hutt still loomed, and he held his hand out towards the diminished squad. Another wave of Dark Force pushed the soldiers into giant seat behind them, leaving just one Twi'Lek to protect the Hutt. The alien was levitated into the air, screaming in fear, and he hung struggling.

"Let's try again," came a low hiss from the shroud of the hood. Sparks of lightning sprang forth in streams towards the final guard as he yelled in pain. Seconds later, a sparking and smoking corpse landed next to the Hutt. "Where is Annakiya Kumi?"

"My Lord, p-please, I don't know." He lied in a desperate voice, and the Sith wished the Hutt's stature would convey his cowardly nature.

A simple hand raised in response. The choking sounds of the Hutt clearly told the Sith Lord's response.

"Your existence has been quite a point of discomfort for me. My master has salvaged you by telling me of your usefulness." The Sith's hand wasn't even raised anymore, as he continued to slowly strangle the giant, slime spreading, monstrosity. "I have no reason to respect his wishes if you can no longer be of service."

"O-oo-k..k" he choked out the syllables painfully, his apparent cooperation going unnoticed.

"So tell me, why should I walk out of here with your body intact? I'm sure I can find my information elsewhere," The Sith Lord watched, and sensed, with satisfaction the change of attitude.

The Hutt yelled something in his native Huttese language out of desperation and the Sith released him a split second before unconciousness consumed him.

"There's no need for that kind of language," the Sith scolded his swearing with mockery.

"She.." He gasped trying to gain the air back that he'd lost so forcibly. "Lives on the southern side. Near the moisture farms."

"Much better," he nodded and turned.

As the Sith left Jabba finally released his own disgust with his opponent silently. However, even a fairly skilled user of the Force easily picked up such a powerful thought: _Sith scumbag. You're lucky I don't put a deathmark on you._

"I would have hoped the last thoughts of a Hutt were wiser," the Sith said in a truly disappointed voice.

Then he launched himself into an astounding backflip, covering the 10-foot distance through the air. As he passed over the head of Jabba, his light saber was jabbed through the Hutt's throat. He landed behind him and quickly bounced back over in front of him again. He watched the glowing beam of energy burn and suffocate the Hutt, his disgust plainly evident. When he keeled over, the Sith reached out with the Force. Confident the Hutt was thoroughly dead he spun on his heel and left.

*---------------------------*

As the sleek, glistening, black speeder skimmed over the surface of the desert planet, heads whipped around in interest. The speeder was such a contrast to the normally brown and dingy or dirty speeder usually seen around those parts, that it attracted several startled glances. He skidded to a stop as soon as he reached the house in question, and hopped out of the speeder quickly. He heard several crashes inside, and a yell of fear. Looking around, he spotted three Bantha's outside the home, indicating the presence of Tusken Raiders. He walked around to the back of the house curiously, and discovered with a smirk, another three Bantha's. They weren't as stupid as they are brutal; despite their reputation among the populace. As he came back to the front of the house, he noticed a man running away from the house, and a small boy standing in front of the door. Waves of anger came off of him, and for the first time he noticed how strong the Force flowed through the boy. He looked to be about nine years old, had black hair and light tan skin. _Such a concentration of Force power should have been readily apparent to even a weak Force-user. Why am I just now sensing him?_ The answer was soon apparent; the people in the house must be his family. The door suddenly flew off of its hinges, and a sickening crunch followed. The Sith was exhilirated. The anger and power flowing off of this boy was amazing, and he decided to take the boy as his apprentice. Coming around the side of the home, he watched as the boy scrambled away from the Sand People on a bleeding leg. The man walked down the stairs, and watched as the boy darted into a room, and a bowl flew in front of his face hitting one of the Sand People. Noticing what the bowl had narrowly missed brought everyone's attention to a newcomer in the room. The Sith smiled, this was going to be perfect. He would crush the seeds of this rebellion, and gain a new apprentice all at once. The woman, whom he recognized as Annakiya from the hologram photo's, stopped fighting, and he stepped in front of the Tusken's. They halted their attack, wondering who this newcomer was. His lack of fear stirred a semblance of the same in them. However, their escape route was blocked, so they simply watched the Sith Lord. He pointed a finger towards the bedroom that the 9-year-old had hidden in, and they immediately understood. He turned to interrogate Annakiya as he heard a blow landing on the skull of one of the Sand People.


	5. The Massacre

*---------------------*

Aya scrambled backwards in fear as she watched her brother leap into action. He spun under a blow, and cocked back to swing the pipe. But he suddenly pulled up short, barely dodging an uppercut from another Tusken Raider. Her fear clouded the fact that he'd avoided the attack before it was initiated, but she still felt pride as her brother fought these creatures endlessly. He lowered his head again, and flattened himself against a wall, swinging blindly behind himself. The pipe cracked against the side of a skull, but the Raider easily recovered. The boy knew he was too weak to cause substantial damage, but somehow, somebody would rescue him and his sister. Suddenly he stopped, something was pressing against his mind, making it difficult for him to think. In fact, it nauseated him to the point of vomiting. Such a power was radiating from the kitchen that he was suddenly fearful, and knew that it wasn't a Tusken. Then a spear pierced his left shoulder and he yelled in pain. Even as his blood squeezed out of the wound that barely missed his heart, he realized what had thrown his focus: power. An intense power.

The Sith Lord looked down upon the battered woman and smiled, proud of his work. He'd even made sure to conjure up a stab wound in her chest, which was indicative of a Tusken's killing method. Then he felt a sickening feeling overcome him, but it wasn't his own. Then he realized the boy had suddenly sensed him, but how? He wasn't trained to sense Force power. Not to mention how he'd been shielded against his mental scans. There was only one explanation that made sense, but it seemed so unlikely he dismissed it immediately. Then a scream of pain brought the Sith back to his senses, and he realized his soon-to-be-apprentice had been distracted for too long. He walked around the corner of the kitchen and saw a spear impaled in his left shoulder, far too close to his shoulder for his comfort.

The pain shot through his chest, collarbone, arm, and even his back. He felt the blood dripping down his bare arm, and the pain spidered out away from the point of impact. He closed his eyes, blocking out his sisters screams of horror and anguish, as one of the Sand People aimed a spear at his head for the killing blow. But a choking sound replaced the crunch of his skull between his brain and a piece of metal that he expected. He looked up, and saw the Raider gurgle his last roar before he keeled over. Tarahmes knew that the horrifying power he'd just sensed had rescued him, and suddenly it seemed much more welcoming. In fact, it was a wonder it had intimidated him in the first place. The Sand People turned towards the source of their companion's death. A large, hooded figure blocked their exit out the kitchen. They huddled behind the boy, frightened at this new power, which could kill so violently and completely.

"Leave," the voice hissed in a deep bass.

The language barrier probably wasn't overcome, but the path that suddenly was presented communicated the purpose enough.

"NO!" Tarahmes shouted in protest, but he was too late.

The Sand People were out of the house in an instant, slamming the door behind them. Tarahmes rushed at the shrouded figure, and swung blindly at the trunk of the cloak, trying to cause whatever damaged he'd been robbed of causing the Sand People.

"Why'd you let them go!?" he growled in frustration and anger; stopping his futile efforts.

"Why should I not have? I killed the only one who'd killed anyone in your family." The man's smirk came through in his words.

"What?" the meaning stopped Tarahmes short. "Aya stay in your room."

He ran out to the kitchen, and his heart seemed to collapse inwards. His mother was covered in bloody bruises, and a single stab wound marred her stomach. He touched it with a trembling left hand, and felt himself take note of his own matching wound with his right. Tears poured down his face in streams. It didn't matter she was innocent; they simply did what Jabba wanted. Not even for riches, just junk they could use for their own purpose. These vile creatures beat his mother before they finally finished her off! He stood up, albeit shakily, but purposefully also. His eyes seemed to alight with fire, and he turned back towards the hallway, where the man who'd rescued him stood next to Aya. He saw her entire body shaking, worse than any of her nightmares had caused, and his decision was reached. He started to stalk back to his room, he would find that pipe and kill every one of them.

"There is a better way," the deep voice said.

"Move." Tarahmes instructed.

The man was taken aback at the lack of fear his son showed. But he could scarcely contain his feeling of pride. The seed wasn't buried too deeply, he'd already shown two similarities with his father: courage and…power.

The Sith Lord knelt to the boy's eye level, "you want them dead don't you?"

"Yes," the boy's breathing calmed, and his voice steadied.

"Why?" he asked. "The one responsible has been punished."

"No the one responsible is a Hutt." Tarahmes breathed slowly and heavily.

This surprised the Sith Lord. The boy was definitely smart. "He's dead, I've already killed him."

"No!" Tarahmes swung at him again in a rage, just barely having another punch dodged. He stopped and realized he'd swung at the man over 10 times and didn't get even close once. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" the Sith was taken aback by the sudden change.

"Make me miss," the boy's mind was curiously sidetracked.

Knowing he had to refocus the boy, he stood up slowly and thoughtfully. Then he drew his lightsaber, leaving it deactivated. "Kill the Raiders, and I'll teach you everything I can."

He took the handle of the lightsaber and turned around.

"Tarahmes no!" Aya suddenly spoke up and grabbed his arm.

"Aya, stay here. He'll protect you." Tarahmes assured her.

"But they'll kill you." She cried.

Then Tarahmes and the Sith realized that it wasn't the murder he planned that bothered her.

"Tarahmes will be fine," the Sith assured the girl and pulled her back gently. "He'll be back soon."

"Will you?" she sniffled and looked at Tarahmes through the hair covering her face.

"I promise you," he assured her.

The tracks were obvious. They'd rushed out too quickly to even remember to cover their numbers in a single-file line. As Tarahmes followed the tracks, he felt his anger rising for an unexpected reason. He just felt annoyance at the fact he hadn't reached their camp yet; at this thought he started to walk faster, as his speed picked up he was in an all out sprint. Almost 10 minutes later Tarahmes saw fire lighting up the shaggy hair of a Bantha. He stopped and looked on, his lip curled into an evil sneer. He'd reached their camp.

Huddled around a fire were about eight of the Sand People. Roars, grunts, growls, and other sound effects communicated the need for their entire population to return to the home if they were to survive and keep up their reputation. Suddenly a thrum was heard inside one of the huts and they suddenly rushed to the entrance. But a red blade halted their progress. The red blade was shining from the spine of a Tusken. A kick sent it rolling onto it's back, as it's head lolled around limply. They immediately turned and fled, but the maroon blade whipped in a circle of vengeance. One, two, three raiders dead in the space of a single swing. Several attacks later, the Raiders decided their best chance was to fight back. Tarahmes' foot viciously kicked a Tusken Dog as it whimpered trying to sneak past him. He lazily let the blade drag along the ground, also decapitating the poor animal. Then the pitiful onslaught of Raiders came. Tarahmes ducked, slashed, then did a back roll away from a choreographed attack and brought the blade in an uppercut. The resulting victim's body fell apart on a vertical axis, and Tarahmes spun around quickly impaling a flanking attacker.

* * *

The Sith Lord meditated, quietly providing Tarahmes with as much power as he could, while Aya watched him with pretty hazel eyes. She walked up to his face and leaned in, as if curious if he would bite her in retaliation.

"Aya, what are you doing?" the deep voice remained hidden in the cloak.

"How do you know my name?" Her head cocked to the side.

"Tarahmes said it." He sighed his explanation. His patience was very resilient. But he sensed this girl would persist until her brother's return.

"How do you know his name?" she prodded verbally.

"You said it," the Sith Lord responded.

"Oh yeah," she giggled. "Why are you just sitting there with your eyes closed?"

Sensing another opportunity, the man opened his real eye and looked at her with a smirk. "I'm meditating."

"Why?"

"It makes me powerful," the man explained.

"What do you mean?" the girl sat back, cross-legged.

"Did you see that Sand Person choke to death?" He asked.

"Yes," she shuddered.

"As I gain power, feats like that become very easy for me." The man told her in an enticing voice. "And attackers such as the Tusken Raider's flee before the very mention of my name."

"That must not be good for making friends," Aya sounded slightly sad.

She was still so innocent. She would prove more difficult than her brother. "Yes, but I have no enemies."

"Come to think of it, they did run from you and do what you told them," she mused. The Sith Lord was about to encourage that train of thought when her curiousity shifted. "What do you mean by feet? Like these?" Her toes wiggled in explanation.

The man laughed and his eyes closed again as he returned to meditation, "that's enough questions for now."

"But-" she began to argue.

"Enough!" His voice dropped in pitch, signaling he meant it.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't apologize, just correct the mistake." He corrected her.

"Yes sir," came the first indication of the girls respect and fear for the man.

"A general is a 'sir'. A commander is a 'sir'. I am a Sith Lord. Address me as 'my lord' or 'master'." He said. Knowing full well that only an apprentice should ever call him 'master'. But he allowed her the choice for his own personal curiosity.

"Yes, my…master." She decided she didn't like the sound of 'my lord' at the last second.

The man stood silently, his smile still hidden in the shadow of his hood. The door opened and Tarahmes walked into the house slowly, covered with blood. Aya screamed in fear, thinking that it was his own blood, but he didn't moved as if he was damaged.

"I'm fine Aya," he said shocked at her reaction.

"But you're bleeding!" his reassurance going unheeded.

"No, I'm not," his voice remained surprisingly controlled, despite the death he'd just caused.

Aya stopped, shocked. "B-but you're covered in blood."

"Don't worry," Tarahmes said, walking over to the sink and washing his face off with the water. "They won't come back ever again."

"You have done well," the Sith Lord told him. "You have secured your safety, as well as your sister's."

"My mother is still dead, and my coward of a stepfather has run away," Tarahmes dropped to the ground. His inhuman stamina wearing away with the temporary power the Sith had provided him with. "I feel so…lost."

"What happened to your real father?" the Sith Lord was suddenly interested in where this boy had gotten all of his power.

"He died," he chocked back a sob.

"How?" came the reply.

"My father took me out, to teach me how to pilot a ship, but I messed up. And ran us into an asteroid field." Tarahmes began to tell a story even Aya hadn't heard.

"But your father took over," he finished.

"Yes," Tarahmes was confused. "How do you know?"

"I was too arrogant to turn back, I was the best pilot in the fleet," the Sith took over the story realizing his earlier feeling had been correct. "So instead, I figured I'd just fly us through the asteroid belt. It would have been fun for you anyways."

"Wait, you can read my mind?" Tarahmes stood up, suddenly excited.

"No, I remember that fateful engine malfunction," the Sith Lord said.

Those words echoed in a vast silence that seemed to engulf the entire planet. As the suns of Tatooine set in the distance, Tarahmes stared at the Sith Lord in disbelief and astonishment.

"One of the smaller asteroids got sucked into the engine, and it began to blow apart. So I hid you in one of the compartments for safety." He continued. "And when it exploded, you got blown off onto one of the huge nearby asteroids. I thought the compartment was blown up, with you in it. However, the Imperial Patrol that picked me up must have sent a sweep team to check the perimeter of the field. Luckily, you were on the edge, and they sent you back home."

Tarahmes' mouth just hung open, and Aya simply stared at Tarahmes, not sure what to say or do.

"Anyways, Emperor Palpatine brought me from the edge of death that explosion had threatened to push me over. And he trained me in the true ways of the Force," the Sith Lord pulled back the hood that had constantly hidden his face.

A collective, sharp, intake of breath came from Tarahmes and Aya.

"Father!?" Tarahmes rushed up to the man he suddenly recognized and hugged him.

Aya soon joined the two and the Sith Lord simply stared down at them, as these two children squeezed his legs.

When they finally released him, he looked at them for a moment, taking in the revelation. It truly startled him more than he was willing to let on, but it was definitely to his advantage.

"What we do now?" Aya suddenly seemed on the edge of tears again.

"Aya," Jomo Idrissa knelt to their eye level, despite the discomfort he had with it, he knew it would soothe her. "You mustn't be fearful. Let the Force lead you. Crying will do nothing for you but make you weak and unable to cope."

"The Force?" Tarahmes' question surprised Jomo.

"Come with me to my Stardestroyer, and I'll teach you everything." The Sith Lord, now known as Jomo Idrissa, allowed himself a moment of anger at his son's amnesia.

"Really!?" Aya was suddenly excited, and smiling.

"Don't question everything I say." Jomo's frustration manifested mildly.

"Sorry…uh…" Aya hesistated. "I don't know whether to call you 'father' or 'master' now."

"I go by many aliases. My master and a few others know me as Darth Sidriss, my Sith name. You may call me 'father' Aya. Tarahmes you may call me either 'father' or 'master'." Darth Sidriss explained.


	6. A New Life

Sitting up in his sterile, yet comfortable, bed Tarahmes looked around confused. How had he gotten here? Last memory he had was that his father, Darth Sidriss, was telling them they could come live on his star destroyer. Reasoning that he was now on the star destroyer, Tarahmes got up and looked around the room. To be so bland it was indeed a nicely sized room, bigger than the room he and Aya had shared back on Tatooine. There was a door that led to a bathroom at the foot of his bed, and just to the right about 7 feet away was another door that led to a walk-in closet. Swinging his feet off of the bed, Tarahmes walked towards the door, and stopped short when he realized that it wasn't going to open. He applied a bit of pressure to the two doors. On Tatooine some of the older or broken down doors had faulty motion sensors and needed a slight reminder. But he received no such grace. He hadn't expected a busted door on such a sophisticated ship. He sat down in front of the door, knees bent under him in a meditative posture, and he simply closed his eyes. There was nothing in his past that had compelled him to this, yet Tarahmes just sat there, externally calm. Even while his mind had tidal waves of questions, anxieties, and just **where** was his damn father? At that thought, a voice protruded his mind, and he recognized it immediately.

"_So you have awakened," Darth Sidriss thought interestedly._

"_How did I get here?" came the reply. _

"I brought you here, I induced you and your sister into a deep sleep." The Sith Lord responded. "Do not fear for her, her room is right next to yours."

"But I can't get out of my room," Tarahmes complained.

"Try the closet." Sidriss informed him. "I'll be there after I resolve a few of my prior duties."

Taking his father's advice, Tarahmes walked over to the closet doors, which readily sprang open. Moving towards the back of the walk-in closet, he tried the wall, and found that it easily rotated so that he could walk through the door. He found his sister sitting on the edge of her bed, legs dangling nonchalantly off the side, staring at the door. Aya's bright brown eyes turned towards her brother, and she let out a breath of relief.

"It's so lonely here," Aya commented, in a regretful voice.

"As lonely as it would've been back home?" Tarahmes countered.

"We are home," she gently commented. "The Tusken Raiders made sure of that."

Tarahmes fell silent, still brooding over what he had done to that entire tribe. He'd done it alone, while so young, to even the full grown male Tuskens. The realization finally hit him, and he was stunned at what he'd done.

"Why are we locked in here?" Aya suddenly asked, on a whim.

"Well, this doesn't seem like a ship where children usually run around." Tarahmes responded thoughtfully.

"Correct," came the deep voice of Darth Sidriss from the door. "So until you two are ready this is where you'll spend most of your time."

"Where else can we spend our time?" Aya quickly asked.

"Your room, the mess hall, and, if you're accepted into the Piloting Youth Program, the simulators that aren't being used." Darth Sidriss answers, never moving from his spot.

"Father, will I be allowed to try out for them also?" Tarahmes questions curiously.

"You are to be trained to be a Sith. If you can find some way of squeezing both demanding schedules together, then of course." Darth Sidriss walks towards Tarahmes and stops, towering over him. "But always, **always**, you are a Sith first. So if there's a conflict, you drop piloting."

"Of course Father, that would have been my choice without you telling me," Tarahmes smiled genuinely.

"Come with me," Sidriss turns and leads Aya and Tarahmes through several halls until they reach an elevator. Noticing their eyes on the lettered buttons on the panel just to the right of the door he explains them. "B takes you to the bridge. Only come there if it's a life or death emergency, which requires assistance only I can adequately provide. Otherwise, seek some other means of support."

"Couldn't we just think for help and you'll hear it?" Tarahmes asks.

"Ah, an even better idea. So **never** come to the bridge, unless you have my express permission." Sidriss smirks at the fallen face on Tarahmes, and accusing tone of Aya's eyes. "M is for the mess hall. You can come here on a whim. It's only to eat, so all you'll find are nutrient-rich foods, and other staff members to socialize with."

"I doubt a Storm Trooper is much for conversation," Aya grumbles.

"They're for combat, not entertainment." Tarahmes reasons.

"PYP is the one you'll most likely use the most, as I've ensured it to be your only form of amusement for now." Sidriss explains pressing the button, sending the lift shuddering down to the lower levels.

"Piloting Youth Program right?" Aya deduces.

"Of course, you have to learn to fly a TIE like your father," Sidriss jokes, his voice laced with pride.

The doors open and reveal the academy, which is already bustling with activity. Recruits are in a long line at the main entrance desk, squadron leaders are in a different room being debriefed; experienced squad-members are gathering equipment for the day ahead. Reading their thoughts, or expressions, Sidriss explains, "you've gotten lucky to arrive on the first day of the new semester at the academy."

"I think you just have great timing," Aya answers.

"Exactly." Sidriss fights to hide his pleased expression. "Luck is a fools explanation for success. Luck and hope are for the weak and foolish."

"Are you going to sign us in?" Tarahmes asks tentatively.

"Unfortunately I have already become derelict in my duties. So I leave you two here alone." Sidriss explains, enjoying leaving the two in a situation alone.

"You should have left us on the elevator then," Tarahmes bravely offers what he thought was reassurance to his father.

"I considered it." He admits as he turns and leaves.

"Let's go sign in," Tarahmes grabs Aya by the hand and leads her to the back of the new recruits line.

"Tarahmes," Aya whispers.

"What?" He answers in a somewhat stressed tone.

"We shouldn't let them know who our father is." She says.

"Fine," he answers hurriedly.

"No, I mean we **really** shouldn't let them have even a clue about him." She presses.

"Promise me."

"Are you serious?" Tarahmes is mildly distracted.

"Yes, at least until the right time. I don't want them to let us in because of our relation. I want to know I'm really a good pilot." Aya explains.

"You have my word." Tarahmes promises.

"Father, do these people know your true name?" Tarahmes thinks.

After a moment of silence, "Only you, my master, and I know of my **former** name."

Realizing the mental emphasis, Tarahmes flinches at his mistake and drops the mental connection.

"Name?" a tired voice questions Tarahmes.

"Tarahmes Idrissa." He answers.

"Rank?"

"Uh, I'm new."

"Stop hesitating!" came a scold in his mind.

"I'm working on it," Tarahmes thought back frustrated at the mental invasion.

"Your unsure mind state is pressing on my mind like a weight. Free yourself with confidence." Sidriss answers.

"Okay," Tarahmes calms his mind. "Okay, I have this under control."

"Go to Application Computer Number 2 to your left. It has your name brought up on it already. Just follow the instructions from there."

Tarahmes walks, a little excitedly, to the computer, and sits down. There's only one other recruit already at a computer. A Twi'Lek is sitting at the computer pressing in answers at a fairly high rate.

"Hi," Tarahmes greets, excited to finally have someone his age, other than Aya, to speak with.

"Need help with anything?" the Twi'lek turns to Tarahmes.

"Not yet. But this can't be too tricky, you're going through it pretty fast." Tarahmes says, giving a nervous laugh.

"I'm not stupid you know," the Twi'lek sounds offended.

"Sorry," Tarahmes turns to his application without another word.

The first question appears on the screen, and it suddenly becomes a little bit harder to swallow, and steady his hands. 'How much flying experience do you have?'

After about 45 standard minutes Tarahmes answers the last question, fairly sure that he'd pretty much failed to meet the standards to get into the program. A message indicates that it was processing his application and being reviewed by a professional. Scanning the room he notices Aya easily answering all of her questions, which surprises him because he wasn't sure where she had managed to acquire the knowledge. The holovid programs she constantly watched he guessed. A quiet beep behind Tarahmes causes him to whip back around in anticipation. One word on the screen eases his mind quickly: Accepted. Tarahmes then returns to the desk and tells the receptionist that he was accepted.

"Which terminal were you on?" he asks, momentarily ignoring the recruit in front of him, much to the recruit's indignation.

"Number two," Tarahmes answers.

"Ok, go to the new recruit station which is through the door to the right of the desk."

Tarahmes walks around the desk, and notices Aya's pleased look. He pauses for a moment and waits for Aya. She comes around the corner smiling from ear to ear.

"They said I'd probably get promoted soon." She brags.

"I'm lucky I got accepted, I don't think I did that well on it." Tarahmes says, sounding worried.

"Don't worry about it, once you get into this it'll be pretty easy," she assures him; sounding the most comfortable she has for weeks.

"You sound like you already are," Tarahmes smiles.

"Well, I am a 'natural'" Aya says in a quoting voice.

Walking into the room, the most prominent feature about it is the number of clothing articles lying around. Next are the several fellow squadron pilots that are fitting the recruits with their uniforms before providing them with their wardrobe.

"You!" someone called to Tarahmes. "Come here, we're in a tight squeeze for time so hurry up."

Tarahmes jogs over to the elder pilot who immediately activates the measuring droid sitting on the ground next to him. He watches as it roughly, but very quickly and accurately, measures Tarahmes. After about 17 or so seconds, he delves into the neatly folded stock of monochromatic clothes behind him. He pulls out 5 of the standard issue grey/silver uniforms and a single white one that stood out brilliantly against the other 5.

"Head back to the front desk for your dormitory assignment." The teenager commanded.

"Father…" Tarahmes thought curiously.

"Sooner or later, you're going to function on your own." Came the exasperated reply.

Ignoring his father's frustration Tarahmes continues undaunted, "should I go to the dorms here or my room that you gave me?"

"Which ever you prefer at the moment. They both will provide about the same comforts. Your room is larger than their dorms however. Much more up to date, in the middle of the ship, and you won't have to share it." Sidriss described the tantalizing options.

"I'll get my dormitory assignment, so I can pick at any moment." Tarahmes answers.

"Wise," was the last thought before the connection was cut off.

The desk clerk spotted the clothes in Tarahmes' arms, and tossed him the key card to his proper room before Tarahmes even reached the desk. Giving the receptionist a thumb up of thanks, he looked over the key to see the room assignment. Tarahmes then looks around, unsure of what to do next, so he goes to one of the many chairs around the room and sits down. Aya approaches Tarahmes after a few moments, and sits on the ground contentedly.

"You know, we're free to go right?" Aya says. "We have to be back here at 0900 hours tomorrow."

"Then why are we still here?"


	7. Challenges and Triumphs

The corridors of the destroyer where complex to the minds of young children, and despite their exceptional nature, combined efforts, and past trip from their rooms to the academy, Tarahmes and Aya still found themselves absurdly lost. They in fact, hadn't bothered to take note of the floor their rooms where on. As a result, they were completely mixed up, and were now walking aimlessly through the halls, no longer concerned with reaching their destinations. It was this lack of concern that brought them into the back legs of a storm trooper who whipped around pointing the barrel of a blaster at the two fallen kids.

"What are you doing here?" the trooper demands, as if he were regarding an actual intruder.

"Looking for the mess hall." Tarahmes spoke matter-of-factly as he stood up brushing himself off.

"Then you should go the lift which is just to the right," his tone was accusatory, if that could be conveyed through the helmet he wore. "What are you really looking for?"

"I've told you the truth, now get that barrel out of my face," Tarahmes' voice changes to the same he donned the night of his tusken massacre.

"Halt!" The storm trooper commanded as the two began to move towards the elevator. "Come with me."

Tarahmes gathered his strength, recalling the feeling of power he'd had when hunting down his mother's murderers, and faced the trooper.

"Now!" the trooper commanded again. "I'm writing a report on this. Then you can go."

"Fine," Tarahmes calmed down. "Let's go Aya."

"You have to take us back to the elevator," Tarahmes told the trooper as he filled out a report on a datapad.

At these words, the trooper turned and slapped handcuffs on him and Aya.

"What is this!?" Tarahmes yelled in anger.

The trooper pushed the two into the jail cell, which happened to be behind them. It wasn't until the doors were locked that Tarahmes had realized the trap he'd just walked him and Aya into. The prison was a little too conviently located behind them, and wide open. Of course, the fact the trooper had had to trick him into coming with him gave Tarahmes a sense of satisfaction, that the soldier had been afraid of him.

"Tarahmes?" Aya spoke up from her sitting position on the ground where she'd fallen from the shove.

"Aya, I'm sorry." Tarahmes mumbled embarassed.

"You know, this **is** our father's ship. Just talk to him," Aya informed him.

"Well…" Tarahmes paused. The fact was that his father's last comment about his dependency stung him a little deeper than he had hoped to admit. But he couldn't be expected to talk or break his way out of jail. "Okay."

"_Father." Tarahmes thought out to his last parent._

"_How did you manage to get in jail?" his father responded amused. "On a ship owned by your father. Which is en route with a fleet, also owned by your father."_

"_Well…" Tarahmes began._

"_In fact, no matter which ship you are on. You should be able to stay out of prison." His father's thought portrayed his enjoyment at the irony._

"_The storm trooper didn't believe that we had gotten lost." Tarahmes explained timidly._

The laughter rang out in Tarahmes' mind vividly, playfully, and a little teasingly. _"You haven't told them who I am to you?"_

"_Aya didn't want to get a free ride at the academy because of you. She wants to earn it." Tarahmes thought back._

"_That not only is noble, but a good idea. You'll get a better introduction to training. If I get some free time, I might even train you two myself. But I'm busy right now. Get out of jail yourself."_

"_Father…"_

"_In fact, we'll make this a little test. Break yourself out of jail before I do. And without using my name for leverage." Sidriss was openly enjoying this._

"Well?" Aya asks when Tarahmes sat down with an odd expression on his face.

"He laughed," Tarahmes starts. "And has made this some kind of game or challenge."

"That sounds fun," Aya's voice sounding truly interested, surprised Tarahmes. "What are the rules?"

"Well," Tarahmes was still taken aback at Aya's willingness to participate. "We can't tell his name, and we have to be out before father is here."

"Great, let's start with these cuffs." Aya instructs.

"Okay," Tarahmes takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He recalls the feelings he had last time he tapped into the force but they seem inappropriate. "This isn't going to be easy."

"It's not called a challenge if it is. Now hurry up, we don't know how much time there is." Aya pushed.

As the feeling of power returns into Tarahmes' body, he focuses his mind on Aya's handcuffs, and watches them twist apart in his mind. Opening his eyes, which he'd unconciously closed, he looks at Aya's hands. The cuffs are broken and, while separated so she can use her hands, they're still on her hands.

"Nice start, let's shoot for complete removal now." She compliments.

Tarahmes sighs inwardly, and closes his eyes again. Gathering his strength again, Tarahmes pulls the cuffs apart in a manner that peels them off of Aya's wrists. Without even checking his work, his attention is quickly redirected to his own cuffs. The second time around it's a lot easier to remove the cuffs. Tarahmes opens his eyes with a smirk, and looks at Aya's face.

"That…" her jaw is dropped. "Was amazing."

"We're not out of prison yet," Tarahmes swells with pride, and finally understands Aya's willingness to participate. He tries to keep his focus, without relishing his achievements, and turns to the guards outside the cell. "What now?"

"Get me one of their guns," Aya smiles behind Tarahmes.

"Won't we get in trouble if we kill them?" Tarahmes hesitated.

"_You're hesitating again. You know, I'm on my way now. You don't have time for that now." Sidriss' mind penetrated his sons._

"Our father is on the way. So we need to hurry up," Tarahmes informed Aya.

"Then give me that gun," she presses again.

Thinking about it one more time, Tarahmes decides that they don't have the time if they want to get out. Relenting, he closes his eyes again, and recalls his power back to himself.

Darth Sidriss stood on the elevator as it descended to the prison floor, his mind lightly scanning his sons mind. He found it odd that Tarahmes seemed to be actively keeping it blank, as if he didn't want his thoughts to be read. The significance of this struck Sidriss. His son was indeed powerful to already be guarding his mind against being read, even if it was a familiar source. While Tarahmes hadn't truly blocked his mind off, even emptying it to avoid perusion was still a great step for a 9 year old. Darth Sidriss reached where the two were locked up, and walked into a room that had been ravaged by devastation. The first thing he noticed was a smirking son, and arrogant looking daughter sitting at a desk. Tarahmes in a chair with his feet propped up on the desk tilting the chair back on its rear legs. Aya was stretched on the desktop with her head resting on Tarahmes' legs in the manner of a pillow.

"Well, I guess you two win." Darth Sidriss finally spoke.

Then he turned to the wreckage that littered the room, which consisted of over turned tables, one cells bars were bent outwards, and all the guards in the room seemed to have been shot in the head. The Force lingered in the room, empowering both Darth Sidriss and his son.

"Find another trooper, and have him send a cleaning crew to this room. Then we'll have to resolve this navigational issue. I can't afford to have you two killing my troopers every time you want to get a snack." Darth Sidriss announced before turning and leaving.

"How are we supposed to find our way to our rooms then?" Aya's first complaints since they'd awoken on the ship were voiced.

"Tarahmes can contact me," Sidriss assured her.

"Let's hurry Aya." Tarahmes grabbed her hand and led her towards the other prison blocks in search of a storm trooper.

Because of the security required in such an environment, storm troopers were readily available, and they found one within five minutes of searching.

"What are you doing here?" the trooper asked and déjà vu tugged at Tarahmes' mind.

"Send a clean up crew to cell block A, prison chamber 1." Tarahmes instructed him, remembering the painted sign outside the door as they had left.

"On whose orders?" the trooper asked.

"Lord Sidriss," Aya interrupted before Tarahmes could say "Darth", which would be a term only his pupil or master would use.

"Yes sir!" the trooper announced and turned to deliver the orders.

"_Father, how do you plan to resolve this navigational issue?" Tarahmes asked mentally._

"_Get on the lift at the end of the hall and take it to the third level, the floor just above the bridge. Go down the hallway and turn at the third left. There, I'll tell you how." Came the answer._

"Let's go Aya," Tarahmes spoke after a moment of silence.

"He told you how to get back to our rooms?" she deduced from Tarahmes' affirmative nodding.

The directions were easily followed and Tarahmes and Aya found themselves rounding a corner to face two stormtroopers this time. The latter was about to voice her feelings about having clones on a ship, when Darth Sidriss emerged from a room to the right. Tarahmes, who hadn't gotten the chance to observe exactly where their rooms were. Upon his closer inspection he saw that there were only three rooms in the relatively short, dead-end hallway. His father had come from the only room on the right, which he assumed was across from Aya and his own rooms.

"My solution," Darth Sidriss explained simply. "Identify yourselves."

"Trooper 5627," the first storm trooper announced.

"Trooper 8893," his partner added on to the end.

"Troopers 5627 and 8893 will be your escorts, if you wish to go anywhere, they must be with you. Since I have already shown you the PYP level, you may venture there alone. Other than that, they will authorize you on where you're allowed to go until you have sufficiently learned the layout of the ship." Sidriss told his children.

"Interesting," Aya's small voice pipes up.

"I, however, have not required them to be on call for you two. The only times they will be available to aid your adventures are when they have free time." Darth Sidriss added on to the end. "I will try to increase that if possible."

"Does this count as free time?" Tarahmes questioned.

"For another 15 minutes," Sidriss explained. "Do **not** tie them up beyond this time, or I will leave you two to getting lost and arrested until you learn your way around."

"Yes, master." Tarahmes assures his father's retreating back.


	8. PYP Training

Tarahmes and Aya find an empty table amongst the various officers and storm troopers in the mess hall and take their seats across from their accompanying storm troopers.

"You know," 8893 begins, having taken his helmet off to eat. "You two might prove to be a blessing in the end."

"I take it you two don't like duty time?" Tarahmes speaks not taking his eyes off of his plate of food.

"Of course we like it. It's in our very genome," 5627 laughs. "But free time is even better."

"Undoubtedly," Tarahmes responds back.

"How old are you two?" 5627 changes the subject.

"9," Tarahmes lets out between bites from his plate. "This stuff is good."

"I'm 7 now," Aya brags proudly. "Which means I'm almost a woman."

"If you've been accepted into the PYP you must be exceptional," 8893 encourages Aya. "I can't wait to see you fly."

"You're gonna watch?" Aya questions.

"Seeing as we're probably gonna see you two a lot more, you might be able to save a few of your flight-sim sessions." 8893 explains.

"Will they let us?" Tarahmes is suddenly interested.

"Well, if Lord Sidriss himself takes enough interest in you two that we've been assigned to you, I'm pretty sure you can find enough pull to have it done." 5627 points out smartly.

"Why does he like you two so much anyways?" 8893 voices their mutual astonishment.

"Well," Tarahmes pauses to take another bite. "I'm special."

"And your sister?" 5627 presses.

"She's already the best pilot in the academy," Tarahmes lies.

"I've never flown before though," Aya denies.

"And you've already been accepted," Tarahmes shoots right back. "What does that tell you?"

"He's right," 8893 confirms. "You must have done something right on that test."

"I think it was the questions they asked about how I would respond to a certain situation." Aya said. "A lot of them were obvious though."

"Not for me," Tarahmes admits. "I can only hope I think a lot quicker with the controls in my hand."

"Tarahmes, you're special remember?" Aya smiles.

"You two had better go check back in, or my Lord Sidriss will be pretty upset." Tarahmes points out the end of their break.

"You're right." 5627 agrees as they both stand up. "We don't need to be the next two troopers he kills this week."

"You don't seem too worried about it," Aya slurps her juice after making the casual statement. "All the other troopers seem to need a bedpan whenever the wrath of Lord Sidriss is mentioned."

"That's only because they're all idiots." 8893 winks as he slides his helmet back on. "We're special."

Tarahmes laughs appreciatively as he polishes off his food and drink, and stands up to his full height. Aya remains seated as she continues to chew her last bite, washing it down with a larger than needed swig of her drink.

"You two know the way to your rooms right?" 5627 turns and questions one last time.

"Yeah, but I think we'll head down to the PYP and see what trouble we can get into down there." Tarahmes informs them.

"When do you get your next free time?" Aya questions anxiously. She seems taken with the troopers.

"Not sure, we'll ask Lord Sidriss and leave a message outside your rooms if we can." 8893 assures her.

"Have fun," Tarahmes jokes for his farewell.

The two troopers leave and disappear around the corner of the mess hall, and Tarahmes turns to Aya who begins to cough.

"You shouldn't have been trying to eat it all at once." Tarahmes scolds as his younger sister chokes violently.

Closing his eyes, Tarahmes puts a hand around her throat, calling his now familiar power back into himself. Squeezing gently, he finds the piece of food blocking her windpipe. He slides his hand up, letting the Force push the lethal vegetable back up to her mouth. Another cough sends it back onto her plate as Aya continues coughing to regain her normal breathing patterns.

"Thanks," she pants, catching her breath.

"Let's just go," Tarahmes rolls his eyes in annoyance.

The Piloting Youth Program Academy seemed to have died some of it's activity down, seeing as the recruiting window was closed, so the only ones remaining were the actual accepted members; a significantly lower number than the applications had been. Aya walked up to the receptionist, who smiles upon recognizing the exceptional girl.

"Hello there," he greets cheerfully.

"Guess when you're not as busy this job is a lot easier," Tarahmes observes quietly to himself.

"You were pretty busy earlier," Aya says pointedly.

"Recruiting days are always like that. Thank the Force that it's only once in a while," the receptionist explains.

"The Force?" Tarahmes asks.

"Don't ask me about it, I heard Lord Sidriss say it once. If someone that powerful thanks the Force, I figured I would do well to thank it also." He waves off the query.

"You know, you're pretty smart," Aya compliments. "What's your name?"

"Oops, I forgot my name tag in all the rush!" the receptionist ducks behind the desk for a moment. He comes back up in a second, shaking his head in self-scolding. His nametag now standing over his heart and Aya looks at it trying to pronounce it.

"Ka…Kad…" she struggles with the long name.

"Kadiginon." He finally helps her.

"Wow, that's a nice name," Aya breathes. "Can I call you K for short?"

"Most people say Dig, but I like K better." He tells her. "I'm pretty sure you didn't come down here just to ask my name though. What can I do for ya?"

"Where's the flight-sim room?" Tarahmes questions bluntly.

"Turn around from here, and turn right. There should be about 4 rooms back there that you can have fun with." Kadiginon directs them.

"Thanks," Aya smiles at him in a friendly manner.

"Any time," he waves as the two siblings retreat.

When you first arrive at the academy the two walls smoothly curve out away from the elevator door, giving a widening effect to the room. Walking straight ahead brings you to the side of the receptionist desk, which curves around attaching at both sides of the wall behind it. Because of the rooms behind and in front of it, as well as the computer terminals on each of its sides the desk establishes itself as the center of the academy. Tarahmes and Aya walk to the wall across from the front of the receptionist desk, turning left find themselves in a hallway exactly as Kadiginon had described. Picking the last room on the left, the two walk into a spacious room, with a synthetic holoprojection of space on the dome and walls. The door places the visitor directly between the two walls, which each hold 5 simulation pods on them, the left side being colored red, and the right side being colored blue, indicating the opposing teams it was designed to show. Aya excitedly skips over to the first blue pod and Tarahmes joins her just to her left. Looking over the controls there are a few that obviously jump out at them. The steering console is simply an almost omni-directional joystick, with three buttons decorating the front. The uppermost button, which rests under the index finger, will send the ship up on a vertical plane without having to point the fighter in the target direction. It's polar opposite rests under the pinky of hand that is holding the steering joystick. The middle two buttons rest next to each other, on the right and left, that can be pressed by either flexing or straightening the middle finger. The buttons will send the ship into a strafe to the left or right, respectively, without turning the fighter, which allows for extreme maneuverability. On the right the pilot has a throttle stick with a separate trigger on the front where your index and middle finger wrap around respectively. The speeds range from stationary to turbo thrust; just before the turbo thrust, the joystick stops until the pilot presses the button where the thumb would be placed at the handle, so that turbo thrust isn't accidentally activated. Aya spots the switch that activates the system on the left panel that her throttle control rests on. Tarahmes follows suit and they both watch the screen go through set the simulation up automatically. Aya tenses up when the helmet at the top of the chair startles her by suddenly moving down on top of her head, the blast shield dropping after the helmet is securely in place.

"Pilot, state your name." a computer voice rings out from both of their sim-pods.

"Tarahmes Idrissa," Tarahmes speaks clearly.

"A-aya Idrissa." She stutters in a moment of unassurance.

"Calm down sis, you'll be great," Tarahmes comforts Aya.

"Um, yea."

The battlefield appears on their screen. It looks like a completely metal field, with various obstacles, electric walls, laser turrets, and other random weapons and obstacles. However their ships aren't quite moving yet, and the computer voice returns.

"Recruit Tarahmes," Tarahmes hears from his as Aya's greets her. "Since this is your first time accessing a simulation, you must learn the controls and flying capabilities through the introductory battle course. At this time, you will not be connected to any other activated sim-pods so that you may get a personal evaluation. Once you reach the mainframe, other pilots may join you."

"Fun," Tarahmes grins.

"Good luck."

"Begin!" the computer announces sharply.

The steering joystick suddenly unlocks and becomes a lot more lucid to the pilot's directioning. Tarahmes grips the controls too tightly, which causes him to press both of the strafing buttons at once. When he realizes the mistake he made, he releases his middle finger just enough to allow him to pilot normally without making the ship go crazy. Then the laser turrets begin to fire, and Tarahmes instinctively begins to maneuver around, dodging the bullets quickly. Pushing forward on the joystick, the ship dives lower, and he soars under a bridge, which shields him from the turrets firing from overhead, even if behind his fighter. As he passes through the bridge, the rear turrets stop firing and bolts of electricity suddenly begin to the fly in front of him. He ducks under the first, flipping into a barrel roll dodges two more at once. As Tarahmes clears the electric bolt field he finds himself gaining confidence as he easily dodges every obstacle thrown his way. Veering to the left slightly, a giant axe blade swings past him, and he spins the fighter around, firing off two blaster shots while flying backwards. He smirks as the axe explodes into a shower of sparks, and his ship is suddenly jolted to a stop.

"I thought the training stage was over?" Tarahmes questions as he tries to rotate the ship around to find what he hit. But the controls seem jammed, and respond to nothing he did. "I received an announcement that I was at 99%."

"There's a final surprise," Aya says through gritted teeth as she pilots her way away from the monster. "Some super monster thing, with a shocking resistance to my blaster shots."

"Great, I'm a sitting duck." Tarahmes growls in frustration.

His sim-pod rocks violently as his ship is hit with blaster shots and he takes damage to the rear of the fighter.

"Where's the laser turret," Tarahmes questions as he suddenly grabbing his controls again.

He grasps the throttle control and presses his thumb down, pushing it as far forward as it can go. There's a mechanical roar behind him as the turbo activates and he breaks free of the monster. He swings the fighter around barely ducking the laser fire that he notices coming from the monsters pupils.

"In it's eyes?!" Tarahmes' disbelief is evident.

"I still haven't damaged it!" Aya vents her frustrations verbally.

"I'll find a way, don't worry." Tarahmes says through gritted teeth.

He dodges a wild swipe from its left arm, and presses the rising strafe button. The ship begins to rocket upwards away from the rising leg. Then Tarahmes presses down on the left strafe button, which maneuvers the ship away, completely avoiding the dangerous foot. A prickling at the base of his neck distracts Tarahmes for only a moment, until he reaches back and deactivates the turbo's. Then he hears a yip of joy from his right, and he figures that Aya discovered how to defeat the monster.

"Don't tell me," he says immediately before she gives him the solution.

Swinging the fighter back to face the monster, well outside of it reach, he pulls the trigger in his right hand. A volley of lasers fire off into the monsters face, causing as little damage as Aya had told him of before.

"Grrr…"

He pulls back on the steering console and rises up over the monster. But he doesn't clear the beast by enough of a margin and it takes full advantage of that by suddenly reaching up and clawing the bottom of fighter, and he notices that Aya's left her own sim-pod and is watching him fly. The ship falters for barely a moment and he struggles to regain control of the sim-fighter again. As soon as it's back within his power, a combination of left strafing and spinning to the right allows Tarahmes to dodge the eye-blaster volley he expected, while simultaneously turning to fire at the monster again. Despite the brilliant dodge, the blasters still are ineffective, and Tarahmes grits his teeth again. Then he pulls the second trigger, which is right below his right index finger, and a missile flies out from the fighter.

"How'd you do that?" Aya questions.

The missle flies into the monster's chest, and it roars in pain, leaning backwards from the force of the blow. It starts to recover, but Tarahmes had already let the second missile fly, and the monster falls to it's back violently. It's head rolls back, hitting the base of the tower that generates the electric traps on the field. The end results in the monster being electrocuted until it explodes in a phony, but dramatic nonetheless, conclustion to the level. "Congradulations" spells its way onto the screen, and Tarahmes whoops in triumph. Then he notices "Rank: C" appear below the congradulations and he realizes just how well he did.

"I think the lowest rank is an F." Aya says. "You did good."

"What'd you get?" Tarahmes questions.

"Come see," she smiles widely again.

Tarahmes steps out of his pod and looks at her screen, seeing the words "Congradulations" on hers also. And his jaw drops in astonishment when he notices "Rank: A, Perfect!" below the congradulations.

"Whoa Aya!" Tarahmes finally speaks.

"I don't know how I did it," She shrugs and explains modestly.

"That's amazing," Tarahmes then turns to Aya with a smile of his own. "I told you that you were the best already."

"I wanna go tell K!" Aya suddenly announces, running out of the room and turning up the hall.

Tarahmes gets up with a tired sounding sigh, and walks out after his hyper sister as he hears her announcement to Kadiginon.

"K! I got an A!" her high-pitched voice floats down to his ears with clarity.

"Whoa!" Kadiginon sounds genuinely shocked. "And you're just a new recruit?"

"First time I've ever piloted a fighter," she swears in honesty.

"Tarahmes what'd you get?" he asks the older brother as he comes around the corner.

"A C," he shrugs as he lets Aya bask in her glory.

"You know, that's really good. Most new recruits get a D or lower." Kadiginon assures Tarahmes

"What's the lowest?" Tarahmes asks.

"G is the lowest. If you get that, then you have to go through some kind of remedial training until you can get an F and qualify to be placed onto a squadron." Kadiginon explains quickly.

"So what do an A and C mean?" Tarahmes asks with a creeping smirk growing onto his face.

"A C is an exceptional pilot. It's usually the creative ones that use unorthodox maneuvers to avoid difficult to predict attacks. If you want to move up in rank, you'll have to work on your initial and counter attacks. An A is just about perfect. An A pilot has just about no weakness unless you get a reckless and lucky attack in, which most likely will get you killed before a pilot of that caliber. Most of the squad captains barely scrape a B." Kadiginon gladly informs the two.

"So…" Tarahmes slowly reasons. "If I practice my attacking skills, I could take down a squad captain in a 1 on 1 battle."

"I think you might be able to right now," Kadiginon says. "There's a difference when being ranked by the computer, and combat with another sentient being. I think your dodges will probably throw most of the pilots here for a loop."

"You watched?" Aya questions.

"Yeah, all the active sim-pods come up on this secret screen I have so I can watch a pilot in action." Kadiginon explains. "It's mainly entertainment for me."

"Can we have recordings of our introduction flight-sims?" Tarahmes asks.

"Of course, you're the only one that's ever asked though." Kadiginon reaches under the desk and presses a few buttons.

"In that case, would it be too much trouble for you to save all our flight-sims?" Aya asks.

"Of course, just come tell me which room and sim-fighter you were in and I'll download it to a holopad for you." Kadiginon says.

"You know Dig," Tarahmes speaks up finally. "I think I might just like your style."

"My style?" he asks confused.

"I don't think you've been confronted with a problem you can't answer," Tarahmes laughs. "You're like a professional."

"Oh," Kadiginon chuckles. "I've just done this a lot."

"How long would that be exactly?" Aya asks.

"You deal with about every problem you could encounter in the half a standard year I've been here." He says. Then he reaches down below the desk and pulls out two holopads and hands them to Aya and Tarahmes respectively, "here's your recordings. If you give me those back I can fill a single pad with all of your flights without having to make a new one."

"Thanks," Aya smiles again. "Tarahmes come duel me."

"My pleasure," he smirks and the two head back into the same simulation room.


	9. The Beginning of a Journey

Tarahmes swerved to the left barely avoiding the lasers pelting at his sim-fighter. Pulling the throttle to a near stop, Tarahmes banks back towards the right on a slow arcing intercept course with his opponent. As soon as the other fighter was within range he fired off a volley of shots, which the opposing sim-fighter dodged easily. It was absurd how little effort she seemed to put into avoiding the assaults. Tarahmes shook his head to clear it and pushed the throttle back up to half it's max cruising speed; just in time to dodge the return fire which almost ended the match. He circles around the back of Aya's fighter and let loose more blaster fire. She begins to lean towards the left, and Tarahmes mimics her movements sweeping the attack across the back of her engine. However, he realizes all too late that she was feinting, and Aya's ships rises up and does a roll to the right, effectively avoiding all the lasers. Then she turns completely to the right and activates her turbo's shooting off away from him. Tarahmes banks to the right with Aya, who's pulling away from him at an alarming rate. He push the turbo's on and begin to shoot after his younger sister then growling to himself in anger as Aya uses another brilliant maneuver that ends up with him in front of her. As soon as Tarahmes had activated his boosters, Aya cut her's off, and he'd gained on her way too fast. She then dropped her relative altitude so that Tarahmes whipped over the top of her ship, and she pulled level with him again. He hears a rapid beeping on his sensors and nearly curses as he realizes she'd fired off a missile in his moment of weakness. Tarahmes pulls up and to the left while trying to think of some way to get away from the missile. Thinking back to the end of the introductory course, Tarahmes use a right strafe, left bank to move to the side while facing the missile. His blasters begin to fire off and he smirks in satisfaction as the missile is destroyed just far enough to save him from any damage. A split second later, his fighter is destroyed in a flashy explosion that ends with the screen spelling the words out "Aya Idrissa Defeated Tarahmes Idrissa."

"Whoa, that didn't go the way I expected," Tarahmes sounds confused. "What happened?"  
"While you were running away from my missile, I came up behind you while you were distracted," Aya smiles.  
"That one will definitely be fun for the troopers to watch." Tarahmes rubs his head.  
"_Return to your room, the time has come for you to begin training," a voice pushes its way into Tarahmes' head._  
"I have to go," Tarahmes tells Aya after a moment of silence. "Our father needs me."  
"I'll stay here," she says turning back to her simulators screen.  
"Have fun," Tarahmes rushes out of the room.  
As he comes around the corner he spots Kadiginon sitting at his desk wearing a smirk at the match he'd just watched.  
"Download me a copy," Tarahmes commands in a hurried voice while handing Kadiginon his holopad  
"Tough match?" he questions my tone.  
"You tell me," Tarahmes challenges.  
"You handled that exceptionally well," Kadiginon says with a smile. "I don't think anyone keeps track of their opponent when running away from a missile."  
"Luckily I found that out in here," Tarahmes comments back taking the holopad. "I'll be back later."  
"Not too much later," Kadiginon calls after his newfound friend.

Turning the corner into the short hallway that holds the three rooms of his only family, Tarahmes spots his father waiting calmly, staring straight ahead, with his hands folded behind his back and feet comfortably shoulder-width apart.  
"And so your journey begins," Darth Sidriss intones in a deep voice. "Its time for you to learn where your home away from home is."  
Taking Tarahmes' uncomfortable silence as an affirmative, Darth Sidriss sets off down the hall, taking a left away from elevator. Ignoring the stares of storm troopers, and unarmored officers, Tarahmes tries adopting his father's calm, slow, steadily pounding footsteps. He doesn't try to clasp his hands behind his back, rather letting them swing in rhythm with his feet. The change of his movement behavior makes him feel invigorated with confidence, and he no longer wonders why his father's subsidiaries fear him.  
"Good," Darth Sidriss voices the new feelings he senses from Tarahmes. "Tell me something, why do you seem so much quieter now? Are you nervous?"  
"What is there to be nervous about?" Tarahmes questions back.  
"Do not answer my questions with one of your own."  
"No I'm not nervous. I'm trying to transition from being just your son, to your student also." Tarahmes explains.  
"A student does nothing but learn from books and archives. You are my Padawan," Darth Sidriss corrects.  
"Yes master," Tarahmes finally speaks to his father as the Padawan he now is.  
"And it is wise of you to observe the change in our relationship." Darth Sidriss compliments.  
"Thank you, master." Tarahmes speaks again, feeling slightly awkward.  
"_Do not feel so uncomfortable," Darth Sidriss says in his mind.  
"It will become natural to me fairly quickly," Tarahmes assures his father.  
"I am still your father," comes the response. "This is an addition to our relationship, not a replacement."  
"Yes master father." Tarahmes jokingly thinks back._  
The smile on Darth Sidriss' face only flickered, and only Tarahmes was able to catch it because he'd been watching for the reaction. Reaching the large door at the end of the room four storm troopers are waiting armed with the biggest blaster rifles Tarahmes had ever seen in his life. He suspected they either heavily repeated or had a huge single shot; it was possible that both were true of the weaponry.  
"Troopers," his father speaks in a commanding voice that snaps them all to attention.  
"Yes sir?" the head trooper acknowledges Darth Sidriss.  
"All of you are now required to obey Tarahmes Idrissa," he commands indicating his son, who is standing next to him.  
"Yes sir," came the ever loyal, if confused, response. "I'll inform the other shift troopers."  
"Good," he commends the storm trooper.  
The two move through the heavy doors as soon as they finally decided to open for the pair, and Tarahmes finds himself at a 3-way fork. Tarahmes glances at his father, looking for some indication of what to do next.  
"You can make no wrong choice," Darth Sidriss says. "But you must make a choice."  
"What do you mean?" Tarahmes asks confused about the need for a choice on his part.  
"These three hallways will lead you to a different lesson in your training. You eventually will have to go through all of them, but I want to see where you wish to begin," Sidriss explains. "Use your feelings, you do not need to know where each path will take you."  
Tarahmes takes a step that places him directly in the middle of the intersecting hallways, and closes his eyes. Turning in a slow circle, he lets his mind wander aimlessly until he finally gets a feeling that makes him want to stop. Opening his eyes, he sees that he is facing towards the left hallway.  
"Interesting," Darth Sidriss mumbles before he moves to the door that his son chose.  
Entering the room, which is darker than the hallway they came from, Tarahmes finds himself standing on the upper level of a room that seems to be geared towards generating the feel of a pit. The 15-foot high upper level circles completely around the room with only 1 set of stairs to take you down to the lower level without inflicting pain on yourself. Tarahmes descends down the stairs, which are directly in front of the entrance to the room.  
"What lesson is this?" Tarahmes questions.  
"This is where you will begin and practice your light saber techniques." Darth Sidriss says from the upper level. "But first, you must have a multitude of questions for me. So I will allow you three before each training session."  
"When we were together, before the accident, you were a Jedi Master," Tarahmes states rather than asks. He continues slowly, as if carefully wording his question. "You are now a Sith Lord. What has changed? Your abilities seem the same."  
"An excellent first question, you are indeed wise for your age." Darth Sidriss continues his purposeful walk around the upper level while Tarahmes stands in the middle of the pit. "The Jedi are single minded, they fear power because they are not strong enough to command it properly. Jedi preach of peace, yet wield the same deadly weapons and abilities a Sith does. The Jedi speak of the light side of the Force, which is their major weakness."  
"And a Sith?" Tarahmes presses eagerly.  
"The Sith seek power more openly. They do not speak such contradictions and hypocrisies as a Jedi does, but rather embrace all aspects of the Force, the dark and light side." Darth Sidriss explains. "Rather than try to mask their quest for strength, a Sith will do whatever he feels necessary to better himself and rise above those around him. Emperor Palpatine, the Dark Lord of the Sith, has created this Empire by asserting his strength in both the political field, and the battlefield. What else do you wish to know?"  
Tarahmes turns his head around, without moving his body, as he tracks his father's movements and contemplates his next question. "What of the Force?"  
"The Force is what makes you powerful. That feeling you had when you hunted down your mother's killers was the Force flowing through you. It truly is a field of power that surrounds every sentient being. Some are born with a connection to it, some are completely cut off from it, but the exceptional sentients have a deep connection to the Force. The deeper your connection to the Force, the less of a connection you have to your physical, mental, and bodily limitations. Through meditation you can strengthen your bond to the Force and increase your power exponentially." Darth Sidriss tantalizes Tarahmes with the explanation. "The Force comes much easier when you feel rage or intense purpose, but true mastery comes when you can call upon that power when calm. This will provide you with even more power than you can imagine."  
Tarahmes watches his father carefully and notices the light saber at his hip with a smile. "Tell me, master, when will I get my own light saber?"  
"For now you will be using an old saber I built a long time ago. But you must build your own light saber at the conclusion of your basic light saber training." Darth Sidriss explains.  
"When will that be?" Tarahmes asks, excitement bubbling in his stomach.  
"Enough questions," Darth Sidriss cuts his son off. "It's time to begin."  
Reaching deeper within his cloak Darth Sidriss pulls out another metallic cylinder that's shorter than the one hanging off of his belt. It has a smooth surface with no distinguishing features except for the contoured grip in the middle of the handle. Darth Sidriss activates it suddenly and the resounding snap and hiss announce the appearance of the crimson blade. He waves it around lazily, letting the hum fill in the silence between the two as Tarahmes watches, entranced.  
"This, will be your practice weapon so get a good feel for it," Darth Sidriss finally deactivates the weapon after making a few attacking motions. "Now take it."  
Tarahmes closes his eyes and reaches out with his hand aimed at his father on the upper level. He recalls the Force and channels it through his hand, molding it around the light saber handle. Tarahmes slowly reels the Force back to himself pulling the light saber to himself.  
"You need work," Darth Sidriss speaks pausing at the top of the stairs, hands behind his back. "You shouldn't have to call upon the Force. Even a Tusken Raider always has his bantha ready at a moments notice."  
"Yes master," Tarahmes mildly remembers how unprepared the Tusken's were when his father arrived.  
Activating the blade he feels it jump slightly as it comes to life. The snap-hiss slightly startling the young boy as the red blade springs to life just in front of his face. He begins to move his around feeling the light saber effortlessly follow his motions. He takes a step forward and stabs at the air with the blade. He brings he right foot up to his left foot and mimics a block, and spins whipping the blade in a dangerous cyclone around him. As he feels more and more comfortable the boy begins to move more and more trying more intricate moves. Imagining an opponent in his mind, he even begins to block, strike, and counter his opponent's telegraphed attacks.  
"Enough," Darth Sidriss commands as he walks down the stairs. "You seem to have a natural talent for using a light saber."  
"Like Aya and piloting?" Tarahmes sounds proud of himself.  
"Exactly how accomplished is your sister?" Darth Sidriss questions the statement.  
"She's a Class A, pilot." Tarahmes tells him.  
"And what of your ranking?" Sidriss presses.  
"I was ranked at C." Tarahmes sounds slightly deflated.  
"Very good," Darth Sidriss compliments. "I will have to visit Aya. Back to training however."  
At this, Darth Sidriss finally comes down the stairs onto his son's level. He soon begins to educate his son in the basics of light saber combat. Starting with the most important, defense, until he'd gotten good enough to practice different attacks.

Tarahmes was lying on his bed in his own personal room, after having just gotten out of the shower. He was exhausted, and had been dripping with nothing short of pure sweat. His father had sadistically decided that, because of his natural abilities with a light saber, he would completely learn a different form of light saber combat until he had learned all seven. Tarahmes sat up in bed at this thought, and smiled in self-achievement. It had taken him only about 12 standard hours, but he'd gotten just about all the lessons for Shii-Cho down by heart. Of course the first form was always the easiest and he still had yet to master them to the point of easy recall, but nonetheless, Tarahmes felt confident he could learn them all easily. Lying on his back, eyes closed gently, Tarahmes felt a familiar presence enter his mind.  
"_Yes father?" He questions before Sidriss can think.  
"It seems I have more time than I had originally thought," Sidriss explains.  
"How so?" Tarahmes is curious.  
"I had hoped to have a report on a group trying to reform the rebellion," Sidriss responded. "He was late, unfortunately."  
"When will he have it?" Tarahmes responds, unknowing of the punishment the officer had received.  
"You wish to know how much time we will have?" Sidriss interprets.  
"Yes, father."  
"His successor shall have it in a standard day." Sidriss tell his son. "Enough questions. You may ask me only 3 more. After you have returned to the training sector."  
"Yes, master," Tarahmes, notes the subtle change in the relationship's status intelligently._  
Tarahmes groans, as he swings his legs off of the edge of the bed and stands. He stretches his arms and yawns widely, then shakes his head to clear it. Then he walks towards the door and stops when it refuses to open.  
"_A challenge perhaps?" Tarahmes thinks a little harder than he intended._  
Opening his palm towards the door, Tarahmes tries to gather his power as quickly as possible, and pushes a wave of Force out at the door. Rather than it simply slide open, the seam where the doors meet are blown outwards, as if by a rancor tackle, and leaves a gap wide enough for him to squeeze out of. Tarahmes shakes his head in an almost joking but self-scolding manner, and thinks about what his father will say upon the discovery.  
"_He most likely will be disappointed that the hole is so small," Tarahmes thinks to himself, hoping his father wasn't in his mind._

Darth Sidriss felt a pressure in the back of his mind, and realizes his son must have broken out of the room. Wondering if the pressure meant he had used a Force push, rather than a bit of manipulation, he turns from the bridge and steps into the lift. Before the doors close an ensign approaches him in a breathless rush.  
"My lord!" he calls out.  
"Yes ensign?" Darth Sidriss speaks in a baritone deeper than his children knew of.  
"Our intelligence reports the rebels gathering their strength on Bandomeer."  
"Wise," Sidriss says to himself softly. "Set course for the system, but do not approach the planet until I give specific instruction to."  
The cause for this cautious approach is because of the valuable Ionite in the mines of the planet. Normally this would be insignificant, except for Ionite's tendency to scramble electronic fields. On a star destroyer based almost exclusively on electronics, to land on the planet would be foolish. While it was true that the Ionite is deep under the surface, and a landing and takeoff will not likely be interrupted, nor the orbit they most likely will take, bringing a large amount of Ionite to the surface to sabotage the ships would be so simple that it would be difficult to stop.  
"Yes my lord," the ensign bows and leaves with his instructions.  
The doors close after Sidriss released his Force-induced hold on it, and let his mind sink into the Force as the lift lowered itself to his destination. Opening his eyes when the doors slide apart, Sidriss notices his son walking towards the doors. Stepping out of the lift, Sidriss waits a moment to see if his son can sense him.  
"_Why the wait Father?" his son speaks in his mind taking him off-guard._ It had always been one way before; his son's only way of contacting him was to call out to him and hope he noticed. Of course he had always answered his son's mental calls, but now, his thoughts were inside his mind.  
"_Why the rush son?" he replied. "A wise Sith questions very little and investigates as much as possible."  
"Yes master," came the shifted reply.  
"Go straight ahead when you enter the doors." _  
"Halt," the two troopers raised their enormous blasters upon the approach of Tarahmes. His small stature didn't suit his confident walk, and look of anger when they stopped him startled the trooper. "State your name and purpose."  
"I am Tarahmes Idrissa, and I intend to enter this room," came the quiet reply. Not a timid kind of quiet, but a dangerous tone was in it.  
"Yes sir, I apologize." The troopers lowered their weapons in understanding. This boy wasn't worried because he had authorization from the most powerful being on the ship.  
"You have one standard week to weed out the apologies. Then punishments will be handed out," Tarahmes explained moving through the doors.

"You handled that well," a deep voice speaks to Tarahmes when he stood outside of the door straight across from the entrance to the training section.  
"Thank you, master." Tarahmes answers, his eyes on the door. "My door did this too."  
"I should hope you didn't use a Force push." Sidriss says. "A bit of technique would have handled it in a cleaner manner."  
"Actually, there's a nice dent in the doors, just wide enough for me to squeeze through it." Tarahmes admits. He was about to apologize when he remembered how much his Father detested mistakes followed by apologies instead of corrections. "I'll be sure to seal it back when I return to my quarters."  
"You learn well my Padawan." Darth Sidriss could barely push the pride and excitement, at the prospect of such a wise son as a student, from his voice.  
"Thank you, Master,"a pause followed. "So what plans do you have set for me now?"  
"You must deepen your bond to the Force. Until it reaches as deep as the oceans of Kamino." Darth Sidriss explains.  
"This being my first test?" Tarahmes cocks his head at the door.  
"Get to work," Darth Sidriss simply says beginning to pace behind Tarahmes.  
Tarahmes closed his eyes and felt for the power inside of him. Connecting to it, he channels it towards the door, feeling around for what he needed to trigger the door locks. Opening his eyes, Tarahmes notices his father still walking back and forth behind him. Suddenly the image of the door opening flashes in Tarahmes' mind and he grabs a hold of the mechanism quickly. A quick twist with his mind and the doors leap to life, sliding open as if activated by a switch.  
"Well done, my Padawan." Darth Sidriss commends.  
"Thank you, Master."  
The enter the room, which is dark inside, having no source of light except a mild blue glow that seemed to emanate from the room itself. The floor was soft like sitting on a firmer version of a bed and very comforting to sit on. Not waiting for the command, Tarahmes moves to the middle of the room and adopts a kneeling meditative posture.  
"Relax your mind," Darth Sidriss instructs, circling his son with his hands clasped behind his back. "Find your power and submerge your mind into it."  
The familiar feeling of power sweeps over the young boy, filling his small frame.  
"I want you to call that power to yourself and let it empower you completely. Draw it out, as a storm trooper draws his blaster, for he never conceals it within his armor. I want you to hold your weapon out in the same manner." Darth Sidriss commands, feeling his son grow stronger. "Good, you will soon find even difficult tasks, such as manipulating a door, will quickly take less than a mere thought to perform."  
The more Tarahmes sat in a meditative position, the stronger he actually felt. He soon began to tune his father's general instructions out and let the Force move through him as completely as his own blood. The feeling was incredible, and he soon found himself not wanting to stop. In the 45 standard minutes, he already could feel his mental prowess growing, and could even tell that repairing his door wouldn't be very tricky.  
Sensing his father had new information, his mind refocused on the Sith's words.

"Now reach out with your mind, my Padawan." He spoke in a slightly deeper voice than he'd started the exercise with. "On this ship there is a traitor, who would seek to fertilize the seeds of a rebellion."  
"Father," Tarahmes interrupts in a serene voice. Sidriss turns his head to his son, "may I have a hooded cloak like yours?"  
"If you can accomplish this task," Sidriss speaks after an interested pause. "You will have a cloak, and we will build your light saber."  
"In that case," Tarahmes stood. "Let us find this traitor."


	10. Initiations

The confused and inquisitive looks Tarahmes received from the staff…amused him. Yes. It was amusement he felt when people silently asked him why such a powerful figure deemed him worthy of being in his presence. For the more perceptive, usually the higher-ranking officers, one might notice how Darth Sidriss trailed this young boy, as if following him. On his own star destroyer; the confusion at this twist of roles fed Tarahmes Idrissa's sadistic humor and drove his mission on. It wasn't that he was truly concerned with a rebellion, nor why his father seemed so preoccupied with preventing one; so much as he wanted his own light saber by the time his first class at the PYP started. That and a cloak to bury himself within. He smirked as he protruded into a weaker mind, and caused the victim to physically flinch at the sharp prodding in his mind.

"Anything yet?" a baritone speaks from behind him.

"The bridge," is the simple, lighter-toned, reply.

Once on the bridge, the pair simply stands right outside the elevator doors as the younger Idrissa scans the main crew for any signs of betrayal.

"Where are you going?" Darth Sidriss questions a private who was heading towards the elevator.

"I need to deliver these reports immediately sir," comes the breathless reply. "I have to get them to the logistics crew."

"The reports can wait," Darth Sidriss folds his arms and looks back over the crew, trying not to sense the man whom he'd discovered quite a while back.

"B-but sir that will jeopardize our approach of Bandomeer." He stutters back.

"_Father, this private is your traitor."_

"_Good. I will deal with him myself, you may return to your leisure."_

"_Thank you, master."_

"If it's that important, then you may go." Darth Sidriss shift to the side and the private nearly runs onto the elevator.

"_Father, those reports are to be delivered to another traitor." Tarahmes tells him again._

"_I said it shall be dealt with. It would not be a good idea to kill him in front of everyone, you must time your attacks for true effectiveness." Darth Sidriss thinks back._

"_Why not? Would an example of how traitors are treated really be that bad?" Tarahmes questions his father._

"_This man has been under my command for a while. Even though he only recently tried to join the rebellion if I were to expose him, my higher ranking officers, who I sense are close to his tendencies, would see how long he lasted and assume that because they are smarter and higher in ranking that they might succeed," Darth Sidriss explains. "Then the number of would-be rebels on this space station will more than double."  
"Why do you keep them under your command then?" Tarahmes continues incessantly asking questions._

"_Because," the frustration even comes through in his thoughts, "They're better at what they do than anyone else I've come across. But they can be replaced if need be although I'd like to try and avoid that."_

"_Why not just dispose of them and replace them? Wouldn't it keep rebellions to a minimum?" Comes another childish question._

"_Go to your academy quarters and meditate!"_

Walking into his quarters in the Piloting Youth Program for the first time ever, he notices that it seemed to have only been half furnished as his roommate probably was expecting him at anytime. Ignoring the various posters of famous fighter pilots on the left wall, he walks casually over to the right side where his bed is neatly made and the wall and dresser next to it are still blank. He reaches out with his mind and senses Aya in her main quarters on the upper level of the ship. The door opens and he turns to see a young Anzat walk in. The first reaction is mild surprise that such a secretive species would be undergoing training to serve the empire. Then his defenses rise as Anzat's are also known to be legendary among the ranks of assassins, and if anyone has guessed the connection between him and his father, then they could profit greatly from his capture or demise.

"Calm down," are the first words from his mouth.

A mild look of interest crosses Tarahmes' face before the smirk, "you're very perceptive."

"Call it a gift," he plops down on the side of his bed. "Where have you been all day?"

"After my little sister and I did a quick introductory run to the flight-sim's I went exploring." He explains, half-truthfully.

"The storm troopers arrest you?" he smirked.

"Briefly." Tarahmes stretches out on his own bed, laying back. "Interesting little brig they have."

"You said it," the deceit rolls off of the Anzat in massive waves.

"What part intrigued you?" comes the trapping question. "How high they put it on the ship? Considering that most prisons are in the lower levels."

"Yeah, it was pretty wild. Then I had to break out, because if they got me behind the bars, I'd be stuck." The Anzat blatantly lies.

"What's your name?" Tarahmes asks aggressively.

"Dridgery," he answers. "Most people call me Gory."

"Why?"

A sadistic smirk crosses his face. "My nature I suppose."

"Wake me up when it's time for us to get squadron assignments tomorrow," Tarahmes rolls on his side so that his back faces the lying Anzat. Then he rolls back, "speaking of which, what'd you get on your ranking mission in the sim-pods?"

"We all do that tomorrow." Dridgery says in a condescending voice.

"Oh. Well, don't leave without me," Tarahmes rolls back over and drifts off to sleep silencing Gory's questioning of his name.

"Wake up!" comes a shrill voice.

Aya sits up quickly and shakes her head clearing her head of the dream she was just enjoying. Seeing her roommate rushing out of the bathroom with her academy uniform sloppily thrown on Aya checks the time on a hunch. And they were a good 10 minutes late. This revelation sprung Aya into action and she begins to rush about in a similar fashion to her roommate, Janikya. After about 7 minutes of hurried preparations Aya and Janikya rush out of the room and find a gathering in the main room of the academy, to find a large group of fighter pilots. The 5 squadron leaders were standing in front of the sprawled gathering of rookie's waiting to be assigned to a squad by one of the leaders. Aya left Janikya, who she had become friendly with, and found her brother Tarahmes who was sitting in the very back of the group.

"Don't bother rushing," Tarahmes tells Aya as she sat down, having sensed her rushed state. "Every one of these squadron leaders would curse our father to have you on their team."

"How does training work here?" she asks.

"We run sim trainings against our teammates for a standard week, at the end of 7 standard days we're matched against another team and your ranking is improved or dropped by your performance in the battle." Tarahmes tells her. "I wonder if the squad leaders got to see our ranking scores."

"I hope not, I don't want anybody to be ready for me," Aya grins. Then her eyes lighten up as she notices the receptionist. "K!"

Tarahmes rolls his eyes as he watches his younger sister run off to the boy who greets her with an equal smile. Then a strong voice permeates throughout the room bringing all activities to a silent end.

"Ok everyone listen up, when you hear your name called, you will stand behind your assigned squadron leader in a single file line. Once everyone has been selected you will receive your orders from there. Let's not take anymore time than necessary, I want all new recruits assigned within the hour." The voice is coming from a tall dark skinned man with a short crew cut and a strong looking jaw. "Squad leaders, you're on."

The squadron leaders each took a step forward and began to read names off of their lists of recruits. The lists held the names of recruits and their scores for the initial evaluation that decided if they were allowed to pilot in the academy. The first pick to everyone's surprise, except Tarahmes', was Aya Idrissa. After the murmuring subsided as the small girl walked over to her commander the selections continued. Being the 6th choice, Tarahmes found himself standing behind his younger sister and the two shared a wide grin with each other. After another 40 standard minutes every new recruit was assigned the tall dark skinned captain had returned and was questioning the squad leaders on the completion of the assignments. After receiving a positive confirmation he left the room abruptly and the squad leaders left everyone on they're on time for 5 standard hours.

"Tarahmes, you ready for another round?" Aya immediately challenges.

"I have some other things to take care of," he declines, somewhat reluctantly. "See if anyone else is willing."

"No, I'll fight them during the regular training." She sighs, but her smile perks up and she proceeds to find Kadiginon as her older brother returns to his quarters to meditate.

Darth Sidriss was not a patient man, and he really hated it when people acted stupid. And that's exactly what this foolish private thought would save him from the wrath of a man known to read minds.

"M-my Lord, I swear to you," the worm of an officer was smart enough to bow on his knees. "I do not know anything about a rebellion. I would have reported it immediately to you."

"Stand up, and look me in the eye."

The private, visibly shaking, stood unsteadily on his feet and looked at Darth Sidriss with eyes full of concealed deceit. The eye patch on his left eye whirred quietly as Jomo Idrissa switched it's modes, although his selection shall never be known by anyone other than himself. Then the powerful Sith raised a hand and his horrifying power flowed into the helpless private. The gesture he made would have made many assume that he planned to choke the poor man, but the Sith was far more creative. Falling back to the ground as an agonizing pain exploded in his chest, the young rebel, Chermin Joynar, whimpered in pain. It wasn't more than a few moments before he began to succumb to cyanosis as his heart was crushed by the Force, sealing off all blood flow to the rest of his body. His limbs began to pale first, then turned to a sickening bluish-gray color. The foul-looking condition spreading from the outside in until his brain was slowly drained of it's blood supply and the painful death finally reared it's ugly head, snatching the last light from his pleading eyes.

"Well done, my son."


	11. Training

Tarahmes' blade seemed to find new speeds and capabilities every time the young Sith wielded the deadly laser weapon. He now was engaged in heavy battle with the droids his father had used his powerful influence to commandeer. And thus his mastery of the third, most defensive, form of light saber combat began. He seemed to be doing well, but his focus was more than lacking, in Jomo Idrissa's eye. That is, the eye he was using to watch his son's workout through; more specifically his mind's eye. In his meditation chamber, he had set 7 droids loose on his son unexpectedly and left. He had had him meditating on sole use of the Soresu form, which was the best choice when fending off blaster fire. However, the hyperactive child had digressed to the more acrobatic fourth form, which had ended up becoming his preferred style. His sneer grows imperceptibly as he flips over the head of a nearby droid and decapitates it with a well-timed slice. He lands in a roll and thrusts himself back into the air, dragging his blade through a second droid with a laugh. As the two clatter to the ground, destroyed beyond repair, Tarahmes lands back on his feet and raises the blade in an aggressive back stance. The remaining droids all continue their stream of fire at the boy, who wastes no time in redirecting their fire rampantly. He seems to grow bored quickly however, and angles all the shots back at the droids quickly, taking them all out nearly at the same time. The display of skill and power from the pre-pubescent prodigy was astonishing, but it infuriated Darth Sidriss that his son refused to conform to the training he had designed for him.

"Fine," Darth Sidriss stood to his full, impressive height. "I will test his true limits."

"Come on…" Tarahmes complained. "Is that it?"

"Oh no my son," Darth Sidriss intones from the shadows of the dimly lit chamber. "You're barely warmed up."

"More droids?" his voice sounds half expecting and half disappointed.

"Hardly," He draws his red blade and flips onto Tarahmes' level.

His smirk of confidence fades into a wide grin as he realizes the implications, "I get to fight you?"

"Indeed."

"YES!"

The excited response to the revelation made Darth Sidriss smile in the corner of his mind. _He truly will become a powerful apprentice; his eagerness will give way to success._ The black blade of Tarahmes Idrissa, which still managed to give off the normal glow of a light saber, had a special, even if weird, property to the light. It seemed to reveal the residue of any substance that had stained whatever material was caught in the black light of the blade. Tarahmes raised the blade, assuming the back stance he'd shown to the droids, and Darth Sidriss stood in a relaxed stance. Much like a storm trooper does when told to stand "at ease". Tarahmes stared his father in his eyes, mechanical, organic, and psychic, waiting for him to attack. Deciding to take his sons bait, Jomo attacked, twisting into a rapid spin at his son's torso. He spun the blade in a half-circle pattern and the opening attack was redirected. Darth Sidriss continued to press his superior attack on his son's defenses. Then he finally got the feeling he was being ripped off. The boy was more than capable of handling simple directions, but he'd switched to his favorite form as if to appear digress, so that he'd come in and fight him directly. He quickly realized that he was pressing his attack into a Soresu defense, and a very well practiced one at that.

"You've been training, my son." Darth Sidriss intoned in a deep voice.

"I was under the impression you were watching my training," comes the evasive response.

Darth Sidriss' smirk is lost as his blade whips in front of his face, and lances out in a piercing motion at his sons throat. Tarahmes knew he had difficulty blocking stabbing attacks such as this one, so instead he improvised. He spun towards the outside of his father's arm, slapping the blade towards the middle of the Sith's body and aimed a backwards slice at his father's hip. Jomo flipped into the air, stunning his son at the quick reflex, and landed, his blade poised right next to his son's throat. Tarahmes gasped but was unable to react accordingly.

"You attacked too soon." Darth Sidriss lowered his light saber.

"I was hoping that strike would make it so you couldn't bring the blade back quick enough." Tarahmes' face fell in disappointment that his plan didn't work.

"Did you see my blade come back?" Darth Sidriss asked, retracting his blade.

"I didn't see much after you flipped."

"Because you lost track of me. My next move was easy to anticipate." The older Idrissa scolded.

Tarahmes straightened up, having knelt for the reverse attack. "But you moved so fast."

"The Force flows through me without boundaries. You must allow the Force to fuel your movements."

The red blade snaps back out and Tarahmes readies himself again, this time choosing a more aggressive back stance, with his black blade pointed out in front his body, as if to impale his father should he get too close. This time, the younger of the battling Idrissa's takes the initiative, reverting to his favored form, and leaps into the battle. This time Darth Sidriss finds himself using the defenses he was trying to instill in his son, as he fends off the initial overhead strike. The agile boy used the clashing blades as a platform to launch himself into the air, flipping over his father and striking at his side. The red blade intercepts the attack without the slightest hint of his father turning to track his movements. Tarahmes stops, astonished, before his throat suddenly seems to close and he can't breathe. Dropping his self-constructed black saber, Tarahmes collapses to his knees and clutches at his throat trying to draw in some semblance of oxygen.

"What happened!" The power chokes off the reply to the Sith's sudden roars. Tarahmes, caught off-guard, can't even manage a gasp under his father's sudden rage.

Aya weaved through the bolts of fire with such small changes in direction; the other new recruits simply appeared to be poor marksmen. Indeed, they were all men, and all of them seemed to be grinding their teeth as Aya's squadron was winning another battle. She hadn't even bothered with return fire, rather allowing herself to play as a superior distraction.

"Red 2, I said break OFF!" The red squad leader yelled at his subordinate angrily. "I need backup, I have 3 bogey's on my tail!"

"Just 15 more seconds Red 1, I can get her!" The co-captain of the red squad angrily yelled back.

"Negative, pull-back! You're too close!" Red 1 returned over the headset.

The last two fighter's left from the red squad was the best of friends. They always hung out, and seemed to back each other up no matter the circumstances. But they hadn't met the daughter of arguably the most powerful being alive, and there wasn't a single recruit in the PYP that could have prepared adequately for the encounter. After her taunts had been followed up with undeniable mastery of her TIE fighter, it seemed to be the red squad's sole goal to destroy her. This had left her own squadron the option to tag-team and eliminate any opponent they wished, leaving only the 2 top ranked fighter pilot's from the currently dubbed 'Red Squadron' and only their leader had kept his focus. But alone, he was no match for 5 of his peer's. Aya shifted her fighter to the right then a smirk appeared on her face.

"Red 2, FALL BACK!"

As soon as the very last syllable of this desperate cry rang out, Aya's nimble fighter jerked upwards as a missile, that had been flying right towards her, whipped right under her at it's real target. A target that had been gritting his teeth and chasing after her for the past 3 minutes. A target that was now destroyed. Aya pulled hard to the right and spoke into her headset.

"Let me finish Red 1."

"Affirmative Blue 5."

Rolling her eyes at the fact that her designation, Blue 5, was below Blue 4, Blue 3, Blue 2, and her squad leader Blue 1, when it was fairly obvious who had the better skill. _But then again, skill isn't strategy or tactics, or even experience. Ah who cares, where's Red 1 hiding?_

Aya circled her previous position twice and finally broke off heading in the exact opposite direction she had been heading in previously. As soon as she passed a stray asteroid her radar bleeped a loud warning of a bogey on six and she grinned in satisfaction.

"Blue 5, you have one on your tail." Blue 3 radioed her.

"Thank you," she chuckled at his late timing. "Stand down, I can handle it."

"We'll see about that Blue 5," Red 1 broke in confidently.

_I disagree; you'll NEVER see this coming._

"Fine." She gripped the throttle on her right, which had been resting at its midway point for the entire exercise.

Her turbo's fired and she whipped away from Red 1 who was more than cautious about his pursuit, rather choosing to wait for her. He didn't have to wait long; it was mere moments when he saw her flying right at him, on a collision course.

"Her missile is armed!" Red 2 warned.

"I know! I should think I'm a bit smarter than you." Red 1 growled, still upset about his partner's demise.

"I don't even need the missile." She taunted, grating on his pride some more. "Watch, I'll eject it without firing."

The missile fell out of its launch tube and floated in space, dead. Then her turbo's fired again as she flew straight towards Red 1's TIE fighter with even greater speed than she had mustered to pull away from him.

"You ever played chicken, chicken?" Aya's feminine smirk was obvious over the radio.

"I'm undefeated as a matter-of-fact." He smirked right back as his own turbo's matched the propulsion of Aya's.

"I doubt that," Aya jerked her TIE fighter to the left and Red 1 whipped right past Blue 5, leaving him to fly headlong into the armed space trash of Aya's leftover missile. The explosion consumed Red 1's screen as he threw his arms up to cover his eyes and the words "Eliminated" spread across his screen. "Cause chicken champions are usually dead."

Tarahmes was lying on his younger sister's bed, twirling the handle of his self-designed light saber consumed in his thoughts, knowing that this was a perfect time to meditate. But he didn't feel like it, because every time he meditated he wanted to conquer something, and he'd just conquered himself. His father had tested him, doing his seemingly best to impress him, and then punishing him for being amazed. But with his father's capabilities it was as if only Lord Sidious himself could keep a straight face when watching his father work. In fact he had even thrown a quick bolt of Force lightning at him while he was in mid-flip. That hadn't been the shocking, no pun intended, part of the interaction, so much as he'd blocked it right before landing. All it took was a slight pause to admire his own reflexes and precognition before a Force-push slammed him into the nearest wall. There was a light tapping at the door, and Tarahmes extended his palm towards it causing the door to spring open.

"Your repair job is admirable," were her first words.

"Since when do you talk like that?" he questioned suspiciously. "They teach you that at PYP?"

"No, it's a message from Father." She said. "I thought it was perfect the first time."

"I had accidentally damaged the motor's that moved the door." He grumbled about having to redo his quick fix of the obstacle. "We don't need anything that weak on the ship anyways, the way I see it."

"You'll be glad you did it later," Aya quoted their father again hopping onto the bed next to him. "Father means well, he's just harsh."

"Being the second most feared name in the galaxy does that to you." Tarahmes pointed out. "But he wasn't always like this, he used to be very kind."

"Well I don't really remember that far back, my last memory of him was the day he came back from the accident," Aya's voice seems to grow quiet. "Why did he change?"

"I don't know, I think he felt…betrayed." Tarahmes paused trying to gather his few memories accurately. "After his crash he was upset that the Jedi Council had held a funeral for him rather than send out a search party. He saw it as their way of calling him weak, even if unintentional."

"So when Emperor Palpatine rescued him," Aya began.

"Father joined the more loyal Sith." Tarahmes finished.

"You wanna grab some food?" Aya asked, suddenly changing the subject. "I'm starving."

Realizing his own famished state Tarahmes smiled, nodding, and leapt to his feet. He headed back into his own room through the closet and placed his light saber and cloak on the bed then hurried back into Aya's room. Opening the door through a bit of Force-manipulation the two trudged off towards the turbo-lift. As the doors snapped open the young pair noticed two storm troopers already on the elevator. As they stepped on the lift Tarahmes realized, from the waves of recognition he could sense from the troopers, that these two were the first guards he'd met when his father had taken him to start his training. With a slight inward smirk from Tarahmes, the lift took off towards its destination.

In the mess hall Tarahmes scans the room momentarily then he perks up happily as he senses Troopers 8893 and 5627 sitting next to each other amongst a couple of other storm troopers at the table. Aya notices where Tarahmes' eyes were fixed and waves at them excitedly. 8893 notices and waves back at them while 5627 signals them to come over. Aya and Tarahmes hurry across the mess hall, balancing their large gathering of food delicately on their trays and plop down on the end of the table across from each other.

"Nice to see you two again," 8893 greets them. "How's life down at the PYP?"

"Funny," Aya immediately pipes up. "Why does everyone get so mad when they can't beat me alone?"

"Pride," Tarahmes interjects between bites.

"I'm proud I'm doing a good job, what's that have to do with anything?" Aya asks him.

"He's right Aya," 5627 begins. "These boys have been raised believing that males are naturally stronger than females."

"Which is true as a general guideline." 8893 adds.

"But their false belief is that strength is superiority. So when they see you, a weak little girl," 5627 explains.

"I am not weak!" Aya responds indignantly.

"And I will be the first to agree, but I'm telling you what they see." 5627 counters gently.

"Aya, see you've gotten used to being around me and father who don't judge anyone by looking at them," Tarahmes tells her. "Most the people on this ship haven't been raised that way."

"Oh," she says understandingly.

"So when they can't defeat someone they've been raised thinking they are better than, their pride is hurt." 8893 finishes up. "And their only recourse is anger."

"And more pointless attempts," Tarahmes adds.

"Hmm, so being angry makes you keep trying the same stupid stuff." Aya deduces.

"No, blind anger does," Tarahmes corrects. "Look at Lord Sidriss who seems to thrive off of his anger."

"You know you're right," 8893 says thoughtfully. "I never noticed that but he does seem more satisfied after he vents his anger."

"Probably cause he's insane," Tarahmes laughs.

"_I heard that," _his father's joking voice forces it's way into his mind.

"I doubt anyone's told him that and lived to brag about it," 5627 laughs.

"Or ever will," Aya assures him, with a touch less humor in her voice than the other three.

"I'll drink to that," 5627 chuckles one last time.


	12. Purging

Bandomeer grew closer and closer, the tension in the room grew despite their success. The tension was over who would be the unfortunate victim that had to announce their approach to Lord Sidriss. Eventually, an ensign was forced into the daunting task. Shaking in fear, he walked from the bridge dragging his feet towards Darth Sidriss' quarters. He dropped to one knee in front of the closed door and bowed not moving a muscle. The door snapped open, just quick enough for a bystander to noticed the Sith lowering his hand after having opened the door through mental suggestion.

"My Lord, we are within orbiting range of Bandomeer." His voice quivered, his averted eyes failed to notice the smirk his fear had put on the Sith's face.

"Good, bring us into orbit. Prepare a TIE fighter, and imperial landing craft."

"Just a single TIE fighter, sir?" The low ranking officer's fear was forced out by a sudden curiosity.

"Yes, anymore would be a waste of pilots." Darth Sidriss seemed unconcerned, for the moment, with punishing the young man for questioning his orders. "I hope that meets your approval."

"Y-yes sir! Of course sir!"

"However, your lingering does not meet with mine."

"Right away sir!" And with that, he scampered back to the safety of the bridge.

Glaring at the back of the young officer, Jomo Idrissa's mind went to work. Before anyone set foot on the planet he'd need Aya in position. He couldn't help but wonder if the sweet little girl would be prepared to handle the horrible task that he was about to place on her. He could easily have a few dozen older and more experienced pilots carry out the task, but after seeing his daughter outmaneuver his years of experience with nothing but pure talent alone he was convinced there was no one in the galaxy that could teach her anything that would help her improve. Naturally he kept the information to himself, as he wanted her to enjoy her time asserting her superiority in the academy. Then there was the matter of his son. His son who'd already proven himself calculating, skilled, clever, and he even went as far as describing his only son as shrewd. Suppressing the bubble of pride and admiration his newly discovered children left him with, Jomo Idrissa stood and crossed briskly to the doorway. With a gentle wave of his hand the door slid out of his path and he closed his eye briefly wrestling with his plan to put the entire mission in the hands of his children. It was a lot of responsibility way too soon, but he was curious to see how they'd do…

* * *

Tarahmes was attempting to meditate, a skill on which he had become more reliant than ever before since they'd left Tatooine. It wasn't a surprise really. He'd always been content with his own company, keeping to himself. But Aya was not only timid, a lot less so since the re-appearance of their father, but a social butterfly. Meaning she not only was afraid to be on her own, but she was good at attracting attention. The combination left Tarahmes feeling smothered at times. His mind was clear, focused, so he didn't need to actively reach out with his mind to know Aya was outside. And he certainly didn't need any novelty hand gestures to remove the door from Aya's path.

"Hi Aya," Tarahmes greeted, trying to hide the weariness in his voice.

"The ship," Aya began immediately. If she'd noticed his tone, then she had ignored it perfectly, "it's slowing down. And it feels like we're going in circles."

Now Tarahmes' curiosity was piqued, "how do you know that?"

"Can't you feel the ships momentum is different?" Aya asked oblivious that what she just said was no less than an extraordinary talent on her behalf. "Moving felt weird when I was walking from my bed to my bathroom this morning to brush my teeth."

"Your absolutely correct Aya," the deep voice of Jomo Idrissa boomed from the doorway to Tarahmes' room. "It's time for me to give you both a true test of your skills."

* * *

Aya racked her brains furiously trying to remember what she'd learned at the academy. Not in the sense of how to handle her craft, but the mental checklist she had to run through before starting it up. Fuel gauge was full and functioning and her weapons were charged. She gave a quick jerk of the control sticks and the TIE fighter rocked in its stationary position ensuring her that it was responsive to the controls. She was in the process of trying to figure out what her next check was before her father's voice impeded her thoughts. _The ship is fine just take off. _Trusting her father she took a deep breath and flipped the switch on, the turbines began to whir as the engine began to power up. Tilting the controls as soon as enough thrust was achieved for the fighter to hover, Aya glided the fighter slowly out of the hangar.

* * *

"So, father. What are we doing again?" Tarahmes asked with bright eyes, the kind usually seen in a Jedi Youngling. But Jomo didn't seem to notice his sons expression was more Jedi than Sith. It was merely excitement in his eyes.

"There are many terms for it. My master calls it justice, the rebels call it massacre, my subordinates call it a purge, and I simply call it my job."

"I call it fu-,"

"The wise mind does not trifle with labels, but focuses on the essential." Jomo cut off his son brusquely.

"Yes, master." He bowed his head respectfully; deciding now was the time to be an apprentice and not an excited son.

"Good, now remember my orders. You stay close to me, follow everything I say the second I say it, question nothing, and remember your training." Darth Sidriss instructed. "Never hesitate, or the Jedi generals will wipe you out."

The hatch opened with a loud hiss of de-pressurization and Tarahmes felt his first pang of nerves. His father had said Jedi, Jedi generals at that. He'd never faced an equally or more skilled opponent in actual combat. Thinking back on his past, he'd never actually been in real combat. Sure, he'd taken on the Tusken's but he'd had a light saber and a huge advantage over them. He'd had the rage of the dark side behind him then. Sure, he'd practiced his saber skills with his father but the fact remained his father had never actually used all his skill and power against him. There'd been the one time he tried to teach his son to remain focused in a battle, but Tarahmes could even sense that his father was still holding back even then. They disembarked from the drop ship and strolled out slowly, surrounded by a squadron of Storm Troopers. Looking around Tarahmes attempted to calm his mind and focus on the mission at hand, but as he reached out with his newly attuned senses something bothered him.

"Master, I don't sense anyones presence." The young boy intoned with his eyes closed and head tilted towards the ground. His fists slowly curled into balls as if frustrated he couldn't feel any life forms. "Are you sure the rebels are here?"

"What does it matter?" Came the Dark Lord's response. "If my intelligence reports were wrong then I'll deal with my spies later. If they were right and we don't search the area, then my master will deal with me."

"Are you afraid of what your master would do?" Tarahmes raised an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid of failing my master," Darth Sidriss countered easily.

"As am I, master."

A small smirk cross the mans face, unbeknownst to his small apprentice. Turning back to the ship he made a signal with his hand and a squadron of Storm Troopers filed out.

"Commander, your report?"

"Scanners are being jammed by the natural minerals of the planet, but we have located an anomaly that we believe may be the entrance into the stronghold." The commanding officer of the storm trooper platoon announced, after a brief salute.

"Have you breached the entrance?" Tarahmes interjected boldly.

The troopers head turned to look down at the small boy, as if unsure if he should answer the question or if the Sith Lord was going to punish the boy for his brashness.

"Well have you?" The surprise nearly suffocated Tarahmes' senses.

"N-no sir. I've assigned the demo and infiltration team to that."

"Don't bother," Darth Sidriss waves off the notion. "They won't have left their gate so vulnerable."

_"How do you suggest we get in?" Tarahmes asks his father._

_"This isn't simply a rebel base of ex-pilots and smugglers turned do-gooder. The base was established and fortified by Master Tyro Koon."_

_"That name is..."_

_"Yes, the nephew of the great Plo Koon. Not a Jedi for even me to underestimate."_

"Have them mark off then clear the area, we will flush out these cowards." Tarahmes told the commander, this time there was no hesitation before the trooper saluted and ran off.

"Insults are spun from the tongue of the weak, they distract your focus and give no reward. I won't have my apprentice using such childish language."

"Yes, my master."

"If you wish to call the Jedi cowards, wait until you have crossed blades with Master Koon."

Gulping at the prospect of such a powerful user of the Force facing him, Tarahmes decided it wiser to bite his tongue from now on. His father's point driven home very well with those words.

"Yes, my master."

Sidriss paced around the area with his hands clasped behind his back for a few moments. He reached up momentarily to tap something on his eyepatch, a slight electronic whirring sound breaking the silence before he continued walking with his had down. Scanning the ground he finally found the weakpoint he seeked. Stepping back a few steps he takes a deep breath. Extending his hands towards his target, Darth Sidriss began to dig in with the Force before pulling back. The ground rumbled with the Sith Lord's power, his strain becoming more obvious on his face. Tarahmes shuffles over somewhat timidly, assumes the same position as his father, and adds his efforts. Tarahmes blinks in surprise as he finds the tunnel entrance give easily under his mental suggestion. He raises a surprised eyebrow then snickers realizing his father had simply wanted him to open the way himself.

"Wait outside." Tarahmes commands. "Let no one escape."

"Yes sir!" the commander of the unit snaps to attention and salutes before turning around and barking orders at his men.

As Darth Sidriss and his son Tarahmes Idrissa descend into the dank catacombs the older Sith senses the fear rolling off of his son. Tarahmes' wide, child-like eyes sweep across the dark slime covered walls of the tunnels. The green torches giving an eerie glow to the surroundings, accentuated by an ever present dripping noise that seemed to press in on his ears. Tarahmes was straining his ears to listen for any telltale signs of nearby enemies: a shuffle, mud squishing, metal clanging.

"M-master...?"

Darth Sidriss raises a finger to his lips silently before turning to his son.

"Listen," Darth Sidriss hissed in a low whisper. "You hear that dripping sound?"

Tarahmes gulped and nodded tenatively. "It's about all I can hear."

"Do you see or smell any water sources?"

Stopping to think, Tarahmes takes a quick sniff of the stale, metallic air before shaking his head. "It's...artificial?"

"It's a mind trick by Tyro Koon. It was cast upon us as soon as we stepped into the tunnel."

"Can he really do that?" Tarahmes' fear need not be sensed anymore, it was readily apparent in his voice.

"It's a cheap trick. It distracts the mind, masks footsteps, inspires fear." Jomo Idrissa chuckled to himself. "Good for us we're not so weak as to be intimidated by an irritating noise."

"R-right..." Tarahmes inhales a sharp breath of rank air and exhales it, his fear melting away smoothly.

Darth Sidriss nods his approval, "just make sure to keep your mind open. There's no need to attempt probing for masked presences. But do not lower your guard."

"If Tyro Koon is masking the presence of the rebels, won't we be walking into an..."

"Ambush? Likely. I don't think he'll be sending our targets right to us however."

"Could there be a hidden escape route?" Tarahmes asks again.

"Try not to dwell on it, your mind wandering is merely helping Tyro Koon."

Inching along the passage for what Tarahmes felt like was forever before Sidriss' red blade snapped out in his right hand, his left hand pressing Tarahmes back against the wall. Leaning his head out, Tarahmes notices a clearing up ahead with a forked path. One heading to the left, perpendicular to their current path, the other to the right at a less severe angle. The reason Sidriss had grabbed Tarahmes was that a patrol of rebels in assorted uniforms with low end blasters was passing from the right path to the left. After they'd gone Tarahmes hissed under his breath to his father, "aren't we here to kill them?"

"Correct."

"Why did you let them go then?" Tarahmes' frustrated tone aroused his fathers wrath.

"For the same reason I didn't bring an entire platoon in here and blast my way through this under defended base."

"And why is that?"

Sighing in annoyance, "Tyro Koon will know I'm after him. He likely realizes we're here at this very second. If he deems the battle a lost cause he will escape with most of this bases forces and go into hiding for another few years. So long as we remain outnumbered he will stand and fight.

"When I find him, he'll order his men to stand down while we battle each other. If he falls, then all of his men are dead. If I die, then they will either capture or kill you, and continue to attack the empire with guerilla tactics and we'll have suffered a nearly irreparable loss."

Gaping in shock Tarahmes simply bows his head, "so the plan hinges on you beating this Jedi Master alone?"

"One part of it."

"How many parts are there to this plan?"

"3, my young padawan. Your sister being the final stage." Sidriss responds.

"And whats-"

"Enough!" Jomo Idrissa's hand extends from under his robe, Tarahmes feels his body levitate off the ground and air suddenly become scarce. "What did I tell you before we came down here?"

"Q-ques-" Tarahmes tries to choke out the words.

Releasing his son to the ground roughly Darth Sidriss folds his arms and waits.

"Question. Nothing. My master," Tarahmes coughs out from on his hands and knees.

"So you do remember my instruction."

"Yes, my master." Tarahmes regains his composure.

Darth Sidriss takes a deep breath before turning and heading down the tunnel the rebels had come from. Tarahmes following closely his head bowed dejectedly. The rancid path wound ahead for several more meters before opening into a large cavern. The wall inside were smooth and supported by several stone columns that seemed designed by more of a sculptor than architect. The intricate designs were carved into each of the supports from the ground to the dome shaped ceiling. The room was otherwise bare, an empty chamber that seemed to endlessly echo even the slight shuffling sound of Tarahmes' own feet. In the center of the room was a single figure. Lifting his head slowly, the Kel Dor drew the his hood back revealing his oxygen mask resting serenly over his orange skin. Silver eyes hidden beneath the protective goggles. Silver eyes surveying the Dark Lord entering his chamber.

"How interesting," the Kel Dor mused. "A Sith actually taking the time to teach an apprentice."

"Master," Tarahmes voice emanated evenly. "Allow me to show Master Koon just what all you've taught me."

Tyro chuckles appreciatively, "and a brave apprentice at that! No young one. I shall not end your life so prematurely. You've too much to live for and learn."

"Unfortunately for you," Darth Sidriss' moves between Tarahmes and Tyro Koon, his red blade igniting with a familiar snap-hiss. "There's not much of your own future left."

"This base," Tyro begins, drawing a yellow blade and directing it at Jomo Idrissa. "These men. They're all my future."

As he speaks a squadron of half a dozen soldiers fill the passageway behind the two Sith, from the direction they'd just came.

"In that case, your future ends with me." Jomo assumes a relax back stance, blade poised to defend against Tyro Koon's first attack.

Tyro remained in a neutral pose, as if he had no intention of attacking the Sith Lord.

Until Sidriss turned and told Tarahmes, "kill them all."

At these words the black blade snaps out and Tarahmes flips into the passageway over the heads of the first line of rebels. An explosion seals the entrance with a rocky barricade. Blasters fire. A young voice screams out in pain.


	13. Crash and Burn

Tarahmes was exceptionally fast. It didn't matter whose standards you applied to him. Be it a Tatooine moisture farmer or a Sith Lord's apprentice. The rebels were clearly outmatched by this boy. The second Darth Sidriss had spoken the boy snapped into action. His blade was out and had ended one of their brothers lives by the time he'd hit the ground. Their situation didn't improve. His initial movement was so sudden they hadn't even gotten the whisper of a second to prepare. Guns weren't at the ready. The commander of the squadron had cursed in his mind. Tyro Koons instructions were very clear. Very concise. And he now realized very important.

"Stay ready at all times. From the second the Sith enter our atmosphere our lives are constantly in danger."

But how could this boy move like that? He'd seen plenty Jedi defend countless masses from near insurmountable odds. Sith attack hordes of innocents within a breath of a moment. All of whom had moved far beyond a normal beings capabilities. But this 10 year old was something else. His speed was a gift from something far too sinister to be the Force.

The first volley had missed him by a mile. Striking the top of the entrance several charged rounds collapsed the makeshift doorway with boulder and slime. In a way it was as sealed as their fate. Not a man in that hallway survived to appreciate the irony however. Tarahmes pivoted and ducked the second his feet hit the ground, foregoing any defense against blaster fire. He'd figured that small area, sloppy troops shooting at a small boy. Friendly fire would be his friend. The little boy had been right for the most part. But as his final swipe of his black saber confirmed his inevitable victory, a single round caught him in his left shoulder. Reflected from the crystallized minerals of the planet, it was as if Bandomeer itself was a rebel against the Sith. Tarahmes screamed in pain as his wound was cauterized immediately and his consciousness slipped away.

* * *

Humming a tune to herself Aya was growing more and more aware of the awkward silence. The tune was the chime you heard at from the PYP simulators if you completed your mission. It was the only tune she really knew. To Aya victory was the only music she need know. At the moment she was humming to fill the awkward silence. She had an open comm channel with a general back on her fathers ship. Some man he apparently trusted to instruct his only prodigal daughter in how to fly a tie fighter. Once again she was being taught by an inferior man. Aya had scoffed at the idea but she had to admit, knowing he was there had calmed her nerves. Her first fight against real pilots. Experienced pilots. Grown pilots. She wasn't sure how to feel about it. So she felt the only way a young girl could about a new experience.

"We have our first contact leaving the planets atmosphere. Transport class. Low chance of substantial self-defense."

"Stop talking like that. Just say 'we got a sucker coming' sheesh." Aya's voice conveyed her lack of seriousness.

"Eliminate the target," the general continued. Under strict orders from Lord Sidriss to not give in to Aya's easygoing attitude. The fact the Sith Lord had made it a point to mention that was more than disconcerting. So the general had no intention of disobeying.

"Ugh fine."

Aya's thrusters glowed brighter, her computer beginning to churn out calculations that all came to the simplest and only conclusion Aya needed: "shoot here, now." The general opened a channel between Aya's tie fighter and passengers of the transport ship. He was in the dark about a lot of things. The Sith Lord pitting this 8 year old girl against rebel pilots. Not to mention having her fight alone. Or why he wanted her to hear the reactions of these rebels. The Sith Lord seemed to be confident in her victory as well as her ability to skew someones judgment. It was the only reason he could have for wanting these rebels to hear their opponent and why he was adamant the general ignore her. Swooping in on the transport as she sang out the PYP victory tune with "la-la's" the pilot of the rebel ship spoke in a voice that seemed to already know he was doomed.

"This is Rex Gordo of the Olympius-8. I mean you no harm, I only request peaceful passage to the nearest fuel station to resupply."

Aya's response was non-verbal. But it spoke more volumes than any picture could have conveyed. Her blasters tore into the engine of the ship, tracing its way along the underbelly. Carefully placed blows that triggered a deadly chain reaction. Her first target down, more ships began to exit the atmosphere. Passenger filled cargo ships escorted by under trained rebel pilots.

Sheep for the wolf.

* * *

Jomo Idrissa was struggling. He and Tyro both knew that this would be the battle of a lifetime. Neither of them would walk away easily, one of them wouldn't walk away period. When he'd told his son that Tyro Koon was the son of a Jedi Council member and one of the greatest Jedi's in the galaxy his son hadn't fully comprehended it. But he was fully aware just how easily the force transferred itself through genetic bonds. He knew that he'd be locked in battle with the most dangerous foe he'd met in all his time serving Emperor Palpatine. And still he wasn't fully prepared to believe this Kel Dor was such an accomplished duelist with such a lack of proper masters to learn from. It seemed to be coming from a natural talent not unlike his gifted children. As soon as he'd accepted that fact the battle gained a new rhythm. A more suitable rhythm for Darth Sidriss. A rhythm that was humming of Tyro Koons demise. Idrissa soon learned that Tyro's rock-solid and brilliant defense had a weakness. At first it was a minor flaw, then it became a gaping hole. Within moments, Jomo had picked the Kel Dor's defenses to pieces until Tyro Koon hit the ground hard with a grunt from a kick to the chest. Tyro had cursed in his head as soon as he fell for the feint and left himself wide open. Jomo Idrissa smirked as he moved forward disarming the Jedi with a powerful force suggestion. It had yanked his light saber so readily from his hand that Darth Sidriss was convinced that Koon's only dangerous abilities as a Jedi were with a blade.

"Gifted. Sloppy." Sidriss analyzed. "No master, at least not a proper one. Not a qualified one."

Idrissa had initially pressed his attack with the full aggression and rage of the dark side. He had soon learned his opponent wasn't a run-of-the-mill Force sensitive with a gold blade. He had a skill that suggested he had learned a form of swordsmanship in his earlier years, and perhaps had kept up that training. Armed with that knowledge, Idrissa had slowed his attacks to allow himself to get a better feel for his opponent. It was a matter of eventuality as soon as the Sith Master realized his defense was solid, impenetrable, nearly the most perfect Soresu he'd encountered in all his years of combat. With the enormous flaw that the young fighter was too eager to bite on an opening. The laziest feint had pulled his guard down.

"But your young, too eager. Impatient." Darth Sidriss continued. "Know that in your haste to act you cost your men their lives."

"And when you become dust you will be judged for your sins!" Tyro's voice defiant and fearful.

"You feel you have done right?" Darth Sidriss demanded.

"I've followed the Code of the Jedi."

"The two are not synonymous. Answer the question!"

"Yes," Tyro spat out. "Yes, I've kept evil from my heart, mind, and actions."

"Then become one with the Force."

* * *

Aya's mind was in a whirlwind. She didn't know exactly why her father wanted her piloting this TIE fighter. Merely that she was under the strictest of orders to destroy any vessels fleeing Bandomeer's atmosphere. Aya was extraordinarily talented, the sister of a brilliant prodigy and the daughter of a ruthless and extremely dangerous Sith. But she wasn't exactly sure just what she had been thrust into. At first it was fun having targets to shoot down. But as she flooded the battlefield with flames, screams, curses and tears were pouring into her ears. The screams of innocents dying to her precise hands. The curses of men powerless to stop her. The tears of those losing loved ones right before their eyes. Men and women alike were all coming to the same end. In the end, the effect on a little girls psyche was horrifying. Eventually she was quietly begging the rebels to turn back, to stop trying to force themselves past her. Stop banging their heads against a brick wall. The response was initially disbelief. Grown men, ex-military pilots, fallen bounty hunters, mercenaries that found a better cause, all falling to such a young girl. They at first thought there was some trick being played by the Sith Lord on their minds. Then they soon became defiant, determined to overwhelm and eradicate this unbelievable blockade on their escape route. Unfortunately for the rebels it would've taken nearly a dozen simultaneous fighter pilots to overwhelm the combination of Aya's abilities and superior equipment. The rebels refurbished and out dated machines were too slow and under equipped. And they simply didn't have enough pilots to spare on such a daunting task. The result, half a dozen dead fighter pilots, 3 passenger-class cruisers down, with several more transports on the way. The transports were armed, but the weapons weren't omni directional nor could the transports maneuver with a TIE fighter, as such they weren't suited for combat with fighters, generally leaving such responsibilities to escorts. However, theirs had fallen before the passengers were even fully off of the world below. A world these rebels ironically were wishing they had the chance to run back to. Some even considered surrendering in the hopes of mercy from Lord Sidriss. But it was far too late. Aya jerked her controls again, another volley missing her by several dozen meters. Sniffling and choking down a sob she weaved through a crossing stream of fire from 2 more ships. Coming around the nearest ship her guns ignited for a brief moment blasting it's row of escape pods before she was re targeted by the other two ships. Zipping out of the line of fire she moved below the cruiser whose pods she'd destroyed. Firing a volley into the underbelly she blew a huge chunk out of the hull before she placed a short-range missile directly in the hole.

"Why won't you all just give up?" Aya screamed in frustration and sadness. "This won't end!"

Suddenly, Aya's current mix of emotions was replaced by one: confusion. The vessels she had seen leaving the atmosphere of Bandomeer suddenly stopped, remaining outside of her firing range, then a new voice came over her speakers. It was calm, calculating, and edged with icy cold efficiency.

"This is Sentinel speaking, all hands stand down, I'll remove the opposition."

With those words a X-wing swooped in from behind a passenger transport, his blasters immediately igniting. Aya initially avoided the stream with her trademark shift, but the sleight of hand didn't work. He traced her path with laser fire causing Aya to jerk her controls violently in a last second attempt to juke the volley.

"Who are you?"

* * *

Breathing heavily, Tarahmes pushed himself up with his good arm, before letting out a loud gasp of pain. Wincing as he collapsed back onto his chest, a whimpering and rolling over to look at his left shoulder. A smoldering, blackened wound was visible through a burnt hole in the shoulder of his black robes. Looking around quickly he spotted his light saber laying on the ground a few yards away from him, at the entrance of the tunnel opposite from the one he lay in trying to restrain the sobs desperately trying to claw their way out of his chest. His vision dancing from agony, he extended his right arm towards his beloved weapon. With a pang of shame at the necessity, he closed his eyes for a moment gathering the Force within himself before sending a suggestion at the black bladed weapon. It quivered a moment, and began to slide slowly towards him until a boot came down on the hilt, halting its progress. Tarahmes' young eyes went wide with fear and utter shock. The figure was wearing the signature Mandalorian armor of Jango and Boba Fett. However he wasn't a full grown bounty hunter, sized more as a youth a few years his senior.

"Now now, I wouldn't want to end up like those rebel fools would I?" came an ominous voice.

* * *

Aya screamed as another blaze exploded on her left wing. She couldn't believe it. Why oh why did Daddy have to send her out here! This opponent of hers, codenamed Sentinel, was more than just better than other opponents. He was better than her. Far better. In his hands the refurbished X-wing he was piloting was more than able to maneuver at the same level as her top-of-the line TIE fighter. He could make it dance to music Aya wasn't able to grasp. She'd been on the defensive since he'd pulled into her sights. As it stood, she'd exhausted his supply of rockets and missiles, but the man was relentless. Pulling in behind her quickly, his lasers had streamed across her engine. Aya had barely managed to avoid the bolts, but not without taking a devastating hit. She was now spiraling into the gravitational pull of Bandomeer. Her fighter a whirling ball of flames as it ignited further from the friction of the atmosphere against her hull. Warning sirens went off bringing Aya's mind back into focus. She gritted her teeth against the nausea from extremely high-speed motion as well as a sickening feeling she'd never experienced before: defeat. Hitting a red switch, then pressing a button her cockpit pressurized then an instant later the hatch was blown off and she was ejected from her fighter. As it skimmed the surface of an ocean momentarily before plunging under water; the flames dying down as the liquid turned them to steam with a hiss inaudible to her against the wind in her ears. As thrusters in the seat activated Aya began her gentle decent towards the most recognizable thing on the nearest piece of land: the Empire's drop ship.

* * *

The Sith Lord looked curiously at the wall of stone, mineral, and general rubble between him and his son. He'd heard the scream from his son in his mind rather than with his ears as he'd been hurt. His connection to the Force hadn't been severed, so his apprentice was still alive. But it had been weakened greatly. And that worried Darth Sidriss. He'd destroyed Tyro Koon, but there were still rebels in the base, sleepers that he had to flush out and destroy. As this thought passed through his mind he sensed another presence approach Tarahmes. Then the two powers disappeared. His mind came to two conclusions. Either something beyond his mental observations had killed the both of them. An event so unlikely in so many ways Jomo dismissed the thought immediately. The second thought was that the two presences had headed towards the surface. In which case he wouldn't be able to sense them at that range without focused meditation. Something he had no time for. Considering the wall of rock he thought how simple it would be to simply it out of his way. He also wondered how soon it would be before the cave in killed him, his son, and whoever the third presence was. No, he would have to find a different, safer escape from this rebel hell-hole.

* * *

Darkness pressing in on his vision, his breaths coming in short ragged gasps, the pain in his arm screaming to stop moving, Tarahmes pursued his target tirelessly. The bounty hunter-armor-clad boy had snatched his light saber up, and taken off. His mind was too alight with pain for him to focus a Force suggestion strong enough to summon his beloved weapon so instead he would run this fool down and retrieve his light saber the old fashioned way. He followed him through a labyrinth of tunnels, the maze twisting in dozens upon dozens of directions until they were scrambling up a steep incline. Tarahmes had to grit his teeth and focus his mind with exceptional effort to keep from screaming out in pain. But he made it up to the surface of Bandomeer. It was then that he realized the seriousness of his plight. First, he recognized the area as where his father and he had landed to begin this assault against the rebel base. Secondly, and this development nearly floored the young Force-sensitive immediately. This boy, whoever he was, had come across a small girl to take captive. Normally Tarahmes would have ignored the presence of a hostage, if the hostage hadn't been his younger sister, Aya Idrissa. She was whimpering in fear, and likely pain as the black blade of his light saber was ignited and held across her neck in a threatening fashion. Immediately Tarahmes skidded to a stop his eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

"Who...who are you ?" Tarahmes questioned.

The figure chuckled, his arm tightening around Aya's throat. "The question is, who are you?"

"I don't follow." Tarahmes' confusion apparent.

"The children of a Sith Lord, and second most powerful being in the galaxy. So naively believing nobody would recognize those last names, simply because it hadn't been spoken in the empire for a couple of years."

"Last name?" Tarahmes inquired, still lost.

"Idrissa." The figure responded.

Tarahmes' eyes went wide, "how do you recognize that name for what it is?"

"There's only one being I have ever seen with the natural talent with a TIE fighter that can be spoken of at the same level as little Aya. When your in the position I have been in for so long, such an achievement never really leaves your mind." With his free hand, the figure reaches up and removes his helmet.

"You!"

"Working the desk of a premiere piloting school allows me access to some interesting information," Kadiginon smirks as he draws a second weapon. A vibro-blade. "Information that has allowed me to decipher the identity of these prodigal children taking the PYP and Lord Sidriss' star destroyer by storm."

"K, I'm lost man. What is this about?" Tarahmes finally lost his patience.

"Jomo Idrissa, that is Lord Sidriss to the Empire, killed my father. For being a suspected rebel." Kadiginon's voice took on a feverish tone. One of a desperate boy who finally found what he was looking for. "To make it worse, he wasn't! He was the most loyal officer in this corrupted system and he struck him down. All it took was an accusation, some weakly conjured up evidence, and your psychotic father kills mine!"

"But what's it have to do with us?"

"I don't know if a Sith can feel love, or the pain of loss. But by the end of today I'll know if Jomo Idrissa can feel the same pain as Kadiginon Joynar."

Tears began to roll down Aya's cheeks at the announcement as Tarahmes sucked in a sharp breath. That name...Joynar. The rebel he had picked out when his father had awarded him his own personal light saber and cloak. The rebel's name had been Chermin Joynar.

"Chermin Joynar...was killed?" Tarahmes asked, choosing his words carefully. If he played his cards right he could at least save Aya and worry about himself later.

"Cherm- you knew my father?" Kadiginon asked, his voice quaking under the revelation.

"I am the apprentice of the great Darth Sidriss. He is not just having us trained as pilots in the PYP. He is training me to be his personal apprentice. With the power of the Dark Side," Tarahmes tilted his head down ominously, an evil grin spreading on his face. "I pegged your pathetic father as a rebel scum."

"Y-your lying!" Kadiginon's legs seemed to be giving out from under him.

"He was a private. New to the crew of the ship, coming up through the ranks quickly." Tarahmes paused dramatically. "And he was on his way to deliver information about my fathers vessel. Information that was to be delivered to the Jedi Knight Tyro Koon."

"You rotten Sith scum! I'll kill you both right here!" Kadiginon roared raising the vibro blade and slinging it at Tarahmes' face.

A quick jerk of his head avoided the blade as it clanged against a rock and hit the ground harmlessly, "you can have your revenge, but you have to do it right. I had your father killed. I turned him in. I put him at my fathers mercy. I will suffer your wrath. You can have my life, but you must let Aya go. She had no idea what was happening and doesn't deserve to die for the actions of the Sith."

"Tarahmes no...!" Aya whispered.

"Let her go, use my weapon against me, extract your blood from my body." Tarahmes urged.

Kadiginon didn't need much convincing. Having one of his father's killers in front of him was really all it took. He pushed Aya to the side, who yelped as she hit a hard rock, and raised the black blade at Tarahmes as he walked over his hands raised in defense. As he crossed the distance, Kadiginon turned him around and laid the blade across his throat, the sneer very audible in his voice though Tarahmes couldn't see his face with his back to him.

"Any last words, Sith?" Kadiginon hissed in his ear.

"Yes." Tarahmes suddenly pressed his feet into the ground cause the older boy to backpedal to keep from being knocked over. That is until their backs hit the solid metal of the troop drop ship that Tarahmes and his father had ridden to the planet surface, "your family line ends with me!"

Summoning a powerful burst of Force, Tarahmes invoked what may very well be his last suggestion with the awe-inspiring power of the Dark Side. The engine of the transport ignited, with the sole purpose of violent, concussive, combustion. The explosion blew Tarahmes and Kadiginon off of their feet. A deafening roar accompanied unbearable heat. K, the PYP secretary and vengeful spirit, had no chance of survival as well as no chance to scream in pain as he was engulfed in flames and died after burning alive for nearly thirty seconds. Tarahmes was, in some ways, less lucky. With a larger body between him and the explosion he was saved, momentarily, from being ignited directly by the fire. The sheer concussive force of the exploding engine was cut down exponentially as it was being transferred through Kadiginon. Until they hit the groun nearly a dozen meters away from the transport. Aya watched, from her hiding spot behind the nearest rock she had found, as her brother and Kadiginon, the boy she had a slight crush on, flew through the air blown away from each other by the shockwave. As Tarahmes hit the ground and the flames roared above him by less than a foot, his cloak caught fire. The ignition scorched straight through his clothing and immediately began to burn the 10 year old Sith. Aya screamed her brothers name, sprinting across the short distance to try and help her brother until something large and powerful stopped her. Looking up in surprise she saw her father grabbing her forcefully.

"Hide behind the rock, now!" He commanded urgently, worry tinged the edge of his voice.

Rushing over he snatched off his sons cloak, revealing a large hole burned into the back of his black training tunic and 3rd degree burns etched all across the young boys back. Having had no previous knowledge of healing as a Jedi, Darth Sidriss used the only skill within his impressive scope of power that he could apply in that situation.

"Admiral, send a medical transport down here, be prepared to treat third degree burns. Move fast or you'll need the MediDroid next!"


	14. Epiphany

A/N: Sorry I haven't been updating for so long. Kinda hit a tough spot in this chapter. Conclusions are always a bit harder for me to write, so I try to be extra careful with them. That being said, I hope you enjoy. If you do leave a review. If you don't leave some criticism.

Jeff: I saw your comment on JC4. I actually got a virus on my old computer that I had started that series on. Because of it I ended up losing a ton of my work. Including my basic outline for the story as well as the original files for the other 3 installments. I haven't been inspired to work on that story ever since. So I apologize but it most likely will be left unfinished as the story is about 5 years old anyways.

* * *

The Omni was in turmoil. News had spread, as quietly as possible, of the call Darth Sidriss had made to the acting commanding officer of the bridge. It had been made with his usual threat but there was a very blatant difference from every other order the Sith had given. There had been an apparent tone of urgency in the order, and a tone of distress in his voice. Then there were the children. Where had they come from? Why were they such a huge interest to their lord? At first some speculated that they were his children, but none could imagine who the mother was. Then as rumors spread it soon became apparent that they were prodigies. Young kids that were gifted in ways that years of training for the most accomplished military veteran would fall short of. A little girl that supposedly possessed your mind. It was said that if you were to face her in a TIE fighter you would be convinced she'd somehow acquired a hold on your mind. And was filling it with illusions; trickery that disabled your judgment of a battlefield. That she didn't actually evade you, but you simply couldn't hit her. The girl so attuned to sensing motion she could feel the difference between an orbiting or direct travel pattern. Then there was her older brother. A young boy that had the speed of a demon ignorant to travel time. A boy that could execute a room full of men before they could throw their hands up in fear. Nobody knew how the rumors came about, but it only made sense. This boy had to have some extraordinary gift for him to have procured such a vested interest from Jomo Idrissa himself. Not only the interest of a mentor, but the man was actually concerned for his life. The concern inspired a terror amongst the officers that no threat or execution could ever have achieved. The fact that the most intimidating, calculating, and ruthless man they had ever known of was actually anxious brought the importance of their success to light. Nobody wanted to be the reason this boy or his sister died. And nobody wanted to see what Darth Sidriss was going to do if they did.

Jomo Idrissa's considerably long strides were being taken at a quickened pace. He had just disembarked in the hanger and was immediately headed towards the medical wing. He had suppressed the urge to sprint full tilt through his ship. He could sense the tension in The Omni had skyrocketed as soon as he returned and he wanted to do nothing else to increase the fervor running through his subsidiaries. Should their nerves cost Tarahmes his life...

"Daddy!"

Jomo stopped short, having not noticed his tiny 8 year old daughter intercept his path. He was about to brush her off and tell Aya that he had to check on her brother. But the look in her face stopped him. She was traumatized, and severely. Her hands were shaking, eyes red, cheek wet from tears streaming down them. Then as if on cue her knees gave out and she collapsed, saved from the ground by her fathers quick reflexes.

"Why Daddy? Why did you do that to me?" She sniffled, a fresh stream of tears pouring from her hazel eyes.

* * *

Jomo Idrissa sighed heavily. He'd intended for this experience to be a lesson to Aya but she was still young. Her mind hadn't been scarred by the harshness of reality yet. Well it was now, but he had to choose his words carefully. This foul up on his part could prove to be a good opportunity, a chance to temper this pain of hers into an effective outlook. They were in Aya and Tarahmes' room, Aya was sitting on the ground leaning against her bed. Jomo was standing in front of her, his stance steady as ever. Aya's mood had shifted from one of tear-filled sorrow to outright defiance. In her mind, she had sworn never to allow herself to be used for such a cold-blooded purpose by anyone. She was a little girl, not a weapon!

"You disapprove? Of disposing of my enemies?" Jomo asked.

"I disapprove of killing like that!"

"Like what?"

Aya sighed and clenched her fists. Shutting her eyes she called up the horrible memory her hands visibly shaking. "The screams of the women. The agonized cries of the powerless men."

"You think they would have hesitated if the advantage was theirs?" Jomo demanded.

"Advantage?"

"Foolishness! That was your advantage! Those men threw themselves pointlessly at you because they are weak cowards! They couldn't have believed that a single fighter would be able to hold them back so sufficiently. They could not have fathomed that a woman was able to pilot as their equals," Jomo's baritone rose in decibels as he spewed what he believed to be an obvious reality to Aya. "When I showed them that a little girl was able to dominate a group of them they had no recourse. They should have pulled back and allowed their full forces to engage you.

"Instead they continued to charge, sacrificing themselves and those around them just to salvage what little of their ego they had left. Do not shed tears for them Aya. They treated you as an inferior being, I only had you hand them a proper reward."

Aya stood up, shakily, turned away from her father and began strolling slowly to her closet. Thinking back to the comm chatter she let her childish emotions get out of the way of her better judgment. They hadn't just been disbelieving. They had called her names. They had downright insulted her! Daddy was right, they all deserved to burn! At that thought, she remembered the explosion.

"What about Tarahmes!" Aya suddenly asked.

* * *

Tarahmes held onto his consciousness. He had passed out from the sheer pain back on Bandomeer. As his mind slowly came around, however, he felt as if none of it had subsided. His mind immediately tried to withdraw but he stopped it. He needed to regain his bearings, he might be on a rebel base. That scum Kadiginon may have survived, or had men waiting to imprison him. First thing he did was listen. His eyes were still closed, if there were enemies around he wanted to retain the impression of being unaware and non-threatening. He heard the metal whirring of moving droid components, beeping of computers monitoring his condition. The hiss of a door opening and shutting. His first conclusion was he was in a medical facility. Moving slightly he realized his chest and legs were restrained, yet his hands free to move in a less hindered fashion. Opening his eyes slowly he scanned the room. To his left, a wall of electronics and a single monitor showing his neural responses, heart and pulse rate, as well as a general array of readings and measurements he had no use for. Saw the head medical droid next to the surprisingly comfortable bed he was strapped down to. Panning more to his right he noticed with a rush of relief his younger sister. Opening his mouth he was about to shout her name in joy then noticed two startling facts. The first, that his mouth was parched almost to the point he couldn't make any sound, despite the fluids being fed to his body through an IV. The second was that the motion of tilting his head and sitting up was akin to the feeling of his back being on fire once again. With a raspy gasp of pain he laid back down and shut his eyes trying to will the pain to go away.

"Tarahmes!" Aya's voice cracked at the look on his face.

"Do not try to move too much son, there still hasn't been time for a skin graft. Your nerve endings are still exposed and afterwards they will be permanently inactive." Jomo spoke softly, as if raising his voice would subject his son to more pain.

Jomo handed a small cup to Aya and nodded at her, to which the girl responded by rushing next to Tarahmes' bed and slowly feeding him the liquid.

"I'm so sorry Tarahmes! If I hadn't let that guy shoot me down then Kadiginon couldn't have used me like that!" Aya's sobs were scarcely contained. "You wouldn't have to be like this!"

Gulping down the one sip of water was satisfying in a way Tarahmes was sure he would never experience again. And hoped he wouldn't have to. Urging her on with a nod Aya tilted the cup of water further and further until it was drained. Leaning back he took a deep breath and choose his first words carefully.

"Aya, I will never regret rescuing my little sister." Tarahmes' smile was gentle and confident.

Aya felt her guilt drain at the look. It was the most honest and comforting look she had ever seen in her life. Tarahmes actually seemed happy for the opportunity to have done something heroic in her name. She smiled back, taking his hand, and blinked away her tears. A few moments later the MediDroid activated and informed them that the skin graft was about to be performed and they would have to leave.

* * *

The room was intentionally sterile. Every item and furnishing had a distinct purpose to play, there was nothing decorative or appealing about it. It was worthy of being the home for a droid. The monster that did sit in it was barely more of a man. The only discernible trait of this man that was human was his desire to lift himself upon the backs of less fortunate and less able. A button was depressed, not by a motion of his own or one of his many servants, but rather by a mastery of the Force that transcended the comprehension of any living beings or beings the preceded them. If such a comprehension existed now or in the past, then he likely would have been destroyed already. A thought that etched a smirk into Emperor Palpatine's face as a hologram materialized in front of him. The hologram depicted a large form crouched into a deep bow. On one knee, head bowed, and motionless until his words released him. The man in the hologram didn't have to wait long.

"Rise, Darth Sidriss."

"Yes, my master." Jomo Idrissa looked up obediently as he rose to his full height, hands clasping behind his back in a respective "at ease" posture.

"Your mission did not go well." Sidious intoned in a matter-of-fact voice. One that Jomo knew well enough to feel a chill crawl up his spine.

"Tyro Koon and his apprentice Kadiginon Joynar have been terminated. His father, a spy, was executed as well and nearly 40% of the escaping rebel forces were destroyed." Sidriss responded in an honest debriefing.

"Mercy is not in your repertoire. I trust you have an explanation for allowing the majority of the rebels to escape Bandomeer?" Another threat from Jomo's master.

"This base was not a headquarters. An outpost at best, perhaps a training facility for Tyro to teach his apprentice. I decided to use it as such, allowing my spies to track those that escaped." Sidriss responded with cool confidence. A tone that gained the trust of his master many times in the past.

"Use it as...a training facility?" Sidious was caught a bit off guard. He'd expect an explanation, Darth Sidriss had never failed in the past so he figured something had been amiss. Perhaps even an apology if this was his first genuine failure. But the fact that he treated the rebel base with such childish nonchalance was completely unexpected.

"I needed to test my new weapons. Tyro Koon was amateurish, I was unconcerned about him as an overall threat. So far everything has gone according to my plans, my master."

"Weapons? What have you acquired without my knowledge and haven't brought to light yet?" Palpatine sat back brooding for no more than a moment. "Something you found on Tatooine, where I'd sent you to wipe out the force sensitive?"

"Yes, my master." Sidriss answered, lying was pointless. The nightmarish Emperor had likely already extracted the information from his mind before he'd thought to attempt concealing it. "Children of my own blood."

"Hmm, I'm disturbed. You've taken not one, but two apprentices for yourself without my consultation. Perhaps to train them to be loyal only to yourself?" That simple phrase caused the first fear Jomo Idrissa had felt since he thought his son died in an asteroid field.

"Their loyalty, as well as my own, is unquestionably yours, my master. I would not waste your time with useless additions to your arsenal, so I needed to test them." Sidriss responded in a steady voice.

"And?" Sidious waited, with baited breath.

"The next time I send them after a rebel base, you most likely will have no more enemies to speak of."

"Good," Darth Sidious cackled his satisfaction. It grew into outright bone chilling laughter. "Goooood!"


End file.
